


lay my cards on the table

by casualhomesatanism



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Hanzo Shimada, Background Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Developing Relationship, Disabled Character, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Making Out, Multi, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Physical Disability, Slow Burn, Smoking, Trans Character, Trans Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Trans Female Character, Trans Jesse McCree, Trans Male Character, background genji/zenyatta, background symmetra/pharah, hanzo and satya are autistic, i dont make the rules!!, jesse and fareeha are trans, setting boundaries like healthy adults! HELL YEAH!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2018-11-11 13:10:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11149098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualhomesatanism/pseuds/casualhomesatanism
Summary: No one knows exactly why Hanzo ran away. What they do know is that he's turned Jesse McCree's family on its head, for better or for worse. And Genji, as usual, isn't helping.[modern/cafe/college-ish AU, hopefully around 50-60k when it's done, focusing on trans and autistic characters]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title is from Hat Trick by Empress Of, because if there's one thing I seriously can't handle it's titles.
> 
> I'm trying to write plot. Really. I am. Even if it comes out jerky and forced and uncomfortable. all feedback is loved and appreciated, I'm always happy to hear what you think!

Until he heard the door open at nearly two in the morning, Jesse didn’t realize that he had dozed off in front of the TV. For a moment, he was startled by the ensuing silence, until it was broken by the sounds of prosthetic feet and soft Japanese whispering: Genji was home. And with him, from the sound of their hushed but fervent arguing, was his brother, who had fled Hanamura the night before and flown into LAX to reunite with Genji. After weeks of arguing amongst the family, Jack and Gabriel had agreed to allow Hanzo into their house, yet Jesse was the only one there to greet him upon his late-night arrival.

 

Despite all of Genji’s horror stories about the Shimada elders and their brainwashing, when Jesse dragged himself off of the sofa and turned to face the brothers, a voice inside his head kept screaming _he is directly responsible for everything Genji’s been through and you hate him._

 

Then he saw Hanzo’s puffy, tear-streaked face and ratty hair, the single suitcase rolling behind him, the scowl etched deep into his cheeks, and he faltered. “Evenin’, boys,” Jesse grumbled, still half-asleep. “I assume you’re Hanzo.”

 

Hanzo just grunted. Genji, on the other hand, was surprisingly chipper for the dead of night, even as the clunking of his prosthetic legs jarred Jesse into full awareness. “Don’t mind him. He got lost in the airport.” Hanzo’s frown deepened. “Anyway, Hanzo, this is my friend Jesse McCree. And, well, he lives here. His dads technically own the house.”

 

“McCree,” mumbled Hanzo, bowing his head just a fraction. “Genji has… talked about you at length.”

 

Jesse raised an eyebrow at Genji, but didn’t push the topic. “Please, call me Jesse. Based on what Genji’s told me, it’s good t’have you safe and sound on this side a’ the ocean.” Going off of Hanzo’s expression and, well, entire demeanor, he didn’t try for a handshake.

 

“Anyway, he’s taking the guest room,” Genji interjected, pressing a hand between his brother’s shoulders. “At least, for now. Jack agreed that it’d be better to let Hanzo have his own space for the time being.”

 

Something creaked upstairs, and Hanzo flinched, which Jesse instantly catalogued. “I can walk him up there, Genji. You’re not supposed to be takin’ so many stairs, y’know.”

 

“Bullshit, I can—”

 

 _“No,_ you can’t, and you already drove out to the damn airport. Go to bed.”

 

Genji pouted at him, but quickly returned to his late-night flightiness when he glanced over at Hanzo. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay? Or the afternoon. You’ll probably be too jetlagged to see me off to class. Whatever. Sleep tight, _aniki!”_

 

When Genji disappeared into his own room—converted from an office so that he could live downstairs—Hanzo’s face was strangely conflicted, not that Jesse was ready to sympathize with his cryptic emotions. “Welp. Want help with that suitcase?”

 

“No.”

 

“Okey doke.” Jesse frowned and made for the stairs. “Your new room should be fixed up all nice and proper. That’s my parents for ya.”

 

“Hm.”

 

As they passed through the hallway, Jesse realized that Hanzo was as effortlessly silent as a cat—just like Jesse himself. _Maybe Gabriel will put some spurs on him,_ he thought, before snickering at the image. The guest room looked unused but smelled fresh, indicating that Ana had probably deep-cleaned it a few days before. As usual. Hanzo stalked toward the bed and laid his suitcase down on the floor, still without a sound, and then turned to glare at Jesse as if pushing him out of the room with his eyes. “Thank you for walking me up. Good night.”

 

Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “Before I go,” he replied, keeping the door blocked with his broad frame. “If I find out that you have any future intention of hurting Genji, you will not—”

 

“Please.” Hanzo’s jaw was twitching with some unidentifiable emotion. “Do not suggest that. Genji doesn’t need anyone’s protection, and I’ve… I’ve already done enough damage for a lifetime.”

 

The silence stretched and then grew sticky with mutual distrust. “I know Genji’s perfectly capable. I’m telling you that anyone who _tests_ that answers to my gun.”

 

Other than his flaring nostrils, Hanzo stayed still, and Jesse just turned and slammed the door. Surely, Genji would hear about this tomorrow and chew him out for adding to Hanzo’s stress, but he still had to be certain that Hanzo wasn’t just part of some long-winded assassination plot.

 

Jesse didn’t have too many friends, and losing Genji would likely be the end of him.

 

***

 

When Jesse got up to drive Genji to class, as usual, they were both surprised to find Hanzo already drinking an entire pot of tea in the kitchen. Genji exchanged a few rushed words with his brother in Japanese—friendly, or so they sounded—before ushering Jesse out the door so that they couldn’t glare at one another. In the car, Genji seemed to doze off, only to lean his head in Jesse’s direction and speak with unexpected clarity. “You don’t have to be nice to my brother, Jesse, but please understand that he is going through a bad time.”

 

“Oh, so he did rat me out, then.”

 

Genji sat up straight. “About what? I just said good morning to him.”

 

“Oh. Uh.” Jesse tried to avoid Genji’s gaze but, as usual, failed. “I kinda gave him a few stern words last night. Just, y’know, makin’ sure his intentions are in the right place.”

 

 _“Jesse,”_ hissed Genji, “you know that Jack and Gabriel would never have invited him here without good reason. Even Ana encouraged him to come. Consider that, will you?”

 

The latter was new to Jesse, and if the indomitable Ana Amari, also known as his favorite parent, was willing to give Hanzo a chance, Jesse could at least believe that he wasn’t out to kill anyone. “I’m sorry, Genji. I’m just so—so worried he’s gonna try somethin’ and you know I couldn’t stand to lose you.”

 

A hand rested on his as they pulled up to the science building and Genji gathered his things. “I know. And of course I feel the same. Just try not to antagonize him, alright?”

 

“Yeah. Okay.”

 

With that, Genji gave a stunted nod and left for class, while Jesse rubbed a hand forcefully across his eyes. _Fuck,_ he’d been a douche, but he still didn’t really regret it. Maybe he should ask Ana for her opinion, just to confirm that Jack and Gabe hadn’t collectively lost their minds, since he took no chances with his best friend’s wellbeing.

 

After pulling into the driveway and unlocking the back door to the house, Jesse called out for Ana, knowing full well that the woman was already at least halfway through her second pot of tea. However, when she responded, another voice mumbled underneath hers. So much for an unbiased conversation, then. Jesse stepped into the kitchen, aiming to shuffle past Ana and hole up in his own room, but getting past Ana Amari was never an easy—no, feasible—task.

 

“Jesse, please, sit down!” Her hand caught onto Jesse’s wrist, pulling him back toward her, and he cringed. “Hanzo says you met last night, yes?”

 

Glancing in his direction, Jesse was surprised to see Hanzo staring back at him as they nodded in unison. His eyes were surprisingly soft, or at least not outright aggressive, which relieved Jesse. “Yup. I, uh, passed out watching TV again. ‘M sorry, Ms. Amari, but I need to—”

 

“Oh, cut the bullshit.” Ana wrapped an arm around Jesse’s waist and tugged him closer so that his hip bumped into her shoulder. _“Ms. Amari._ You are not fooling anyone. Have you had your coffee? I made some for you and Jack, it’s still nice and hot.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, which earned him an eyeroll from Ana and, to his immense surprise, a tiny snort from Hanzo. The coffee was, in fact, steaming, and in moments, the room was filled with its rich aroma. Following Ana’s pointed glare, Jesse sat down at the table with his hands wrapped around the mug and tried not to lean too far away from Hanzo.

 

Ana topped off Hanzo’s teacup and then her own, smiling at Hanzo’s soft thanks. “So, Jesse, Hanzo told me you were a very gracious host when he arrived. It seems all my years of hard work have finally paid off,” she sighed. “I will be taking at least sixty-five percent of the credit for your parenting.”

 

“Uh. Are you bein’ sarcastic? I seriously can’t tell. Also, don’t let Gabriel hear you say that.”

 

She laughed, a shade higher than her usual raspy voice, and tucked a tuft of silver hair behind her ear. “I could take Gabriel out with one hand and he’s welcome to try me. And I was being genuine. You know I’m almost always proud of you.”

 

Her earnest words filled Jesse with warm surprise, and he couldn’t hold back a grin. “Well, thank you kindly, Ana. I’m always tryin’ to make you proud.” Her eyeballs made another full circle. “I also try my best an’ be sweet to anyone if it makes Genji happy. You know how it is.”

 

“He is a bright young man.”

 

“That he is,” murmured Hanzo, genuine despite his usual gruffness. He raised his voice when he addressed Jesse, though this time he avoided looking anywhere but into the depths of his tea. “Ms. Amari has informed me that you were very helpful in the… healing process. After. Everything.”

 

Most of the guilt over the night before left Jesse in a flood, and he snapped his head up to glare at Hanzo. “He’s been a great friend to me, and I helped him deal with, y’know, losing three limbs. And his entire family, and home, and home _country,_ and independence, and—”

 

_“Jesse.”_

 

Ana’s eyes were blazing, her well-groomed nails digging into Jesse’s arm, and he stuttered a quick apology before he could even think. On the other side of the table, Hanzo was visibly trembling. “I-it really was that bad, then,” he whispered.

 

Jesse didn’t dare respond for fear that Ana would actually murder him, and besides, it didn’t seem as if Hanzo was in search of answers. He excused himself, finished his tea in one gulp, and cleaned up his spot at the table, before leaving the kitchen in bitter silence. The last Jesse saw of him was his short, fluffy ponytail, outlined black against the doorframe as it bounced along with his rapid footsteps.

 

Before Ana could open her mouth, Jesse slammed his mug down onto the table and groaned. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” he grumbled. “I feel like such a fuckin’ asshole, I keep gettin’ carried away, but every time I look at him I remember _everything_ and I don’t know why Genji trusted me to—”

 

“He didn’t trust _you,”_ she corrected, which only made him flinch. “He trusted all of us. It is difficult for everyone, knowing that so much of Genji’s pain has been a direct result of his brother’s actions, but we have to try our best to understand their situation. You have admitted that your words were unkind, so you’re already halfway there.”

 

In lieu of a response, Jesse just slumped sideways onto Ana’s shoulder and whined dramatically as she patted his hair. “There, there, my melodramatic child,” she croons. “You will figure out how to balance these feelings eventually.”

 

That eventuality, however, turned out to be longer than Jesse would really find comfortable. His and Hanzo’s behavior over the next week could only be described as tiptoeing—excusing themselves from the tea cabinet, the dishwasher, the television; standing perfectly braced around Genji when they were all together so that they could only see one another through a tuft of green to which no real gravity applied. Hanzo didn’t seem to resent Jesse all that much, for which he was thankful. Instead, on the rare occasion that they did make eye contact, Hanzo’s eyes flooded with hurt and confusion, and Jesse was left feeling even worse for his snappy reactions. He wanted so badly to make peace, even if it was just for the sake of coexisting with this new person in _his_ house, but at the same time, he couldn’t imagine any motivation strong enough to genuinely let Hanzo off the hook.

 

As the week passed, Jesse had the opportunity to watch how Hanzo integrated himself with the rest of his family. Jack had no idea what to do with him, and mostly just imitated Gabriel’s reactions as they toured Hanzo around the house and made sure that he was acquainted with everyone; once out of earshot, however, he was scathing and suspicious. Gabe, on the other hand, took one long look at Hanzo and inexplicably decided that he merited kindness. Ana was only glad to find another person with a passion for drinking tea in silence, though she and Fareeha both kept one eye on Hanzo’s back at all times, as if tracking him around the house would keep him in line any more than he already was.

 

The weekend after Hanzo moved in, Jesse ended up home alone with the Shimada brothers, sitting around a pizza box in the kitchen and chatting softly. When Genji left to go to the bathroom, Hanzo met Jesse’s eyes for once. The air between them nearly crackled. “What is it, Shimada?” he grunted.

 

“You have every right to hate me for my past actions,” Hanzo muttered, keeping his voice low enough to avoid Genji’s sharp ears. “If it will make my presence in this house any easier for you, please, feel free to take your anger out on me now.” Jesse just stared. Had he done something to provoke this conversation? Was Hanzo just trying to grovel? The man was unreadable, yet always overflowing with emotion as if everything about him was so deep-rooted in conflict that it didn’t make sense to anyone, with the possible exception of Genji.

 

Jesse cleared his throat and broke eye contact before Hanzo’s warm umber eyes could dig too deep into him. “I honestly, uh, wanted to… I mean… oh, _fuck.”_ Jesse took a deep breath. “Scratch that. I still kinda want to hate you, Hanzo. I don’t know what could possibly make me let go of what you did to Genji. But I also—I—Genji still loves you, obviously, and it seems like you had every reason to get away from your family and maybe it wasn’t all your fault. I don’t know. I’m trying really fuckin’ hard not to scream at you right now because I want to, but also I was going to apologize for the other night, and it doesn’t even matter because Gabe won’t let me near my gun in the damn house, and—”

 

Genji flitted into the kitchen doorway, eyes narrowed, and Jesse stopped short. “Jesse, I _swear_ if you’re threatening him again I will throw both of my legs at you,” he hissed.

 

“He’s not,” Hanzo blurted, at the same time as Jesse grumbled “I’d like to see you try.”

 

The kitchen grew stuffy with a long stretch of silence, while Genji glared back and forth between his brother and his best friend and swayed uncertainly on his prosthetic legs. Then something shivered, wavered, and broke, and Jesse and Genji burst into laughter at the same time, followed moments later by Hanzo’s soft chuckles. “You have,” gasped Jesse, “a fuckin’ _arm,_ Genji, why would you throw _both legs?”_

 

“Obviously I would throw the arm _after_ I used it to take off my legs! This situation relies on you staying still long enough for the limb barrage to hit you, okay?!” Both Genji and Jesse were wheezing by the time he finished trying, maybe failing, to defend himself.

 

Hanzo had long since buried his face in his hands and was shaking with laughter, though everything else about his posture screamed guilt. Genji walked the long way around the table to clap his hands onto his brother’s shoulders and then, when Hanzo visibly flinched, wrap him in a suffocating hug. The change in mood was faster than whiplash to Jesse. All of a sudden, he felt like he had no right to be here, sitting in silence while the brothers struggled to find the edges of their frayed relationship. The best he could do was look down at his hands and pretend not to feel the table in front of him shaking along with Hanzo, even as Genji stepped away and sat down.

 

“Anyway,” Genji huffed, “do either of you know enough about robotics to help with my homework?”

 

Jesse rolled his eyes—Genji knew full well that he had stayed firmly within the confines of ‘arts’ during college. As for Hanzo, though, he didn’t know, and he listened with curiosity piqued for the elder Shimada’s reaction. But Hanzo just shook his head, even when Genji pouted and started poking him with one grease-smeared finger. “I took physics for a few semesters, but no engineering,” he muttered at last.

 

“Useless fucking artists, both of you.”

 

“I am not an _artist,”_ hissed Hanzo, glaring at the empty pizza box. “I cannot speak for—for McCree, though.”

 

“Artist and useless, guilty as charged,” Jesse laughed.

 

For a long moment, Genji’s eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them, calculating and sly. “Eh, I’d rather have Jesse on my team. In a hypothetical fight.”

 

 _“What?”_ Hanzo’s eyes widened. “I was a trained assassin!”

 

“Yeah, but Jesse didn’t need a four-year math degree to learn to shoot.”

 

No one could hear Hanzo defending himself over Jesse’s booming laughter, even as he himself pointed out that Hanzo was probably deadlier by tenfold. Genji and Hanzo were obviously smacking each other’s legs under the table, and Jesse gave up on following their argument when they switched to full-speed Japanese.

 

Then the front door burst open and sent Jesse’s thoughts away from the Shimadas. “Who’s there?” he hollered, mostly just to hear the deep boom of his own voice—still, such a fucking _novelty_ after all these years.

 

Fareeha’s braids swung beside her face as she swayed into the kitchen. “Jesse, quit showing off your manly-man voice,” she laughed, swatting him on the back of the head. “Hey, Shimadas. Did you ingrates leave me any pizza?”

 

“You must not be talking to me, Fareeha,” cooed Genji.

 

 _“Shut up,”_ Fareeha and Jesse responded in unison.

 

They continued to bicker as Fareeha pulled some leftovers out of the freezer and microwaved them, then joined the three young men at the table. As usual, she was confident and domineering without ever veering toward unkind, but Jesse noticed right away that she avoided eye contact with Hanzo entirely. His sister was, in fact, his other best friend and thus the next most important judgment of the personalities in question.

 

After half an hour of playful jabs between three of the four, Hanzo got up to go to bed, which Genji immediately teased him for while Jesse and Fareeha shared a quizzical look. “Why is he going to sleep at seven?” mumbled Fareeha as she leaned conspirationally over the long-empty pizza box.

 

“He’s a dumbass and thinks this is the way to handle jetlag.” Genji’s lips may have been mostly scar tissue, but he had long since mastered the art of the smirk. Then he yawned, leaned back in his chair, and took the time to pull himself up onto his prosthetic legs. “I am _not_ going to bed, because I’m not a huge nerd like my brother. _I_ made a friend at school today and he’s really hot and I have to go text him now.”

 

Fareeha wolf-whistled until Genji was properly shooed out of the kitchen before turning to Jesse. “It’s been a week and I still can’t tell. Is Hanzo going to kill us all in our sleep?”

 

“Mmh. I don’t think so.”

 

“I just don’t understand him. Like, why he’s here or why the hell Genji just welcomed him with open arms when, for all we know, he’s still working for their clan.” She shook her head and then caught Jesse in the ferocious beam of her gaze. “Is there something I don’t know? Genji was brought here by the fucking government. Hanzo showed up in secret at two in the morning. Something’s not adding up for me.”

 

Clunky footsteps signalled Genji’s journey from his room to the bathroom, then back again, before Jesse responded. “First of all, I’ve kinda been a dick to him for those same reasons. And he’s just kinda… taken the beatin’, so to speak, which gets sad pretty fast. But other than that…” He lowers his voice and leans toward his sister as if they’re still teenagers teasing each other about crushes. “There _is_ more. I promised Genji I wouldn’t go tellin’ everyone about what he said the Shimadas were doin’ to him, okay? I don’t really want to break that promise, but trust me, he didn’t even tell me the half of it and it was real nasty.”

 

Fareeha’s copper eyes went wide. “To their own heir? Are we talking physical abuse or just brainwashing or—”

 

“Does it matter? We saw how bad they fucked up Genji, and up until then he was allowed to do whatever the hell he wanted,” hissed Jesse. “The Shimada elders or whatever the fuck they are—they needed Hanzo to be as obedient as possible, while still bein’ cruel and cold-hearted enough to rule half the fuckin’ country. Not to mention that he doesn’t have a single social skill to speak of.”

 

“Oh. Okay. So that’s not him being stuck-up or anything, he just doesn’t know how to talk to people?”

 

Jesse shrugged. “That’s what Genji tells me.”

 

From down the hall, the sound of Genji’s whooping laughter startled them into silence again. Clearly, his texting was going well, or he at least had enough of a sense of humor to laugh at his own terrible pickup lines. Jesse debated going to check on him, but decided that he’d already spent a week agonizing over Hanzo’s presence, so he may as well take some time to think about literally anything else.

 

“Anyway,” he grumbled, “I’m kinda sick of bein’ conscious, honestly. I’m gonna go take a nap and then wake up again at ten feelin’ like I’ve left reality.”

 

“Enjoy. Be safe.”

 

He left Fareeha after clapping a hand onto her shoulder and narrowly avoiding her answering slap, then darted up to his room and took a deep breath once he was finally alone. As always, he tore his shirt off first and then reached for a binder that wasn’t there. Six months since surgery, and he still forgot sometimes—though he wasn’t sure how, since his state of mind had gone from _crushingly horrible self-esteem_ to _mostly okay sometimes sorta getting there._ After checking on his scars, as usual, he changed into his favorite boxers, which were covered in cacti and howling coyotes in little cowboy hats, and which he was also loath to admit were a gift from Fareeha rather than something he found himself.

 

Aside from worrying about the Shimadas, Jesse’d been working his ass off all week for his dads. He wasn’t technically an employee of Gabe’s café, but he ran errands for them—delivery, picking up groceries and supplies, and driving half the staff to work on a daily basis—and Gabe paid him damn well, considering that he didn’t pay for rent or food in his parents’ house. Benefits of living with all your friends under one roof, Gabe always said.

 

Something thumped into the wall his room shared with Hanzo’s, and Jesse tensed for a moment, listening for Hanzo’s gruff voice. He heard nothing. After considering for a moment, he decided to leave it be so long as he didn’t hear anything else, especially after he heard the front door of the house open and Ana’s voice ring out into the foyer, singing jovially in Arabic. All at once, his overwhelming week smacked him in the face.

 

“Time for bed, Jesse,” he muttered to himself. “Time to quit fuckin’ _thinking.”_

 

***

 

Saturday, rather than driving Genji to school, Jesse took him to Gabriel’s café and then watched as Genji donned an apron emblazoned with _Café Overwatch_ across the front. Genji had his own stool on which he perched behind the counter, rather than standing on his prosthetics for hours on end. Before Jesse could leave, Genji waved him over and showed him a text string with an uncharacteristically smitten smile. “So, your new man is comin’ to visit?”

 

“He’s not my man. Yet. But Jesse, he’s so _fucking_ cute, and he got so excited when I told him the cafe is accessible, and I already told him about Hanzo—at least a little bit—and he didn’t freak out, so, like… He’s just dreamy.”

 

Jesse snorted into the sweet tea Gabe had made him. “Searching for dream man: won’t freak out over homicidal older brother situation.”

 

Rather than answering, Genji just shook his head and shooed Jesse toward the back door. “Gabe said start with groceries today, okay? We need, like, three hams.”

 

“I’m on top of it. Let me know if you need some good ol’ fashioned wingman action.”

 

_“Jesse.”_

 

He left, snickering under his breath, and came face to face with Jack immediately. His younger dad’s graying hair sparkled in the sun, but his eyes were darkened by a furrowed brow. “What’s up, dad?” quipped Jesse.

 

“How are you doing, McCree? Do you have a moment to talk?”

 

“Sure, but if your husband gets mad for his groceries bein’ late, that’s on you.” Jack rolled his eyes as he pulled Jesse into the shade behind the restaurant and clapped a hand onto his shoulder.

 

The screen door behind the cafe slammed shut in their wake. “You know Genji’s always been wary around me. Is he doing alright? I don’t want to ask him, but I’m worrying.”

 

“As far as I can tell, yeah. He’s got a new sweetheart, I think,” Jesse replied, voice turning sly.

 

“Okay. You’re sure? He’s not acting weird with his brother around?”

 

Jesse snorted and looked away. “Jack, seriously, you don’t need to worry about Hanzo. Fareeha and I are already watchin’ him like hawks. Actually, Genji’s a little pissed about it, t’be honest.”

 

“Well, I’m not. Let me know if anything gets sketchy,” murmured Jack.

 

“You’re not in the damn army anymore, dad. We’re on top of it.”

 

Jack scowled, but didn’t reprimand him. “Fine. Go get groceries before your papi gets mad.”

 

“Yessir.” If Jack noticed his teasing tone, he didn’t react.

 

The grocery store was weirdly packed for early on a Saturday, but Jesse was big enough to nudge between people with ease and without having to be all too rude. For a moment, he remembered starting hormones while he was still a teenager, watching Gabriel shake with pride when he finally _asked_ to go through with it, and then in contrast, how startled both his dads were when they realized that Jesse was as tall as them. This invariably worked out in his favor in grocery stores, even when he still felt such a rush of vindication every time someone greeted him as _sir._

 

Jesse left with an obscene amount of ham, eggs, and enough basic baking supplies to last a normal human’s lifetime, which he brought to Gabriel before heading out to deliver a housemade quiche to a retirement home in the outskirts of the city. Gabe and Jack said that donating to the retirement home was just out of the goodness of their hearts and to keep in contact with old war friends, but Jesse was fairly sure that they were trying to garner favor so that they wouldn’t have to pay a fortune to be cared for once they were old and senile.

 

Either way, the long drive gave Jesse enough time to blast his shitty music and think over the intensity of the past week. He was surprised to find that Jack’s questioning rubbed him the wrong way, as often happened when his dad put on the Old Military Man act, but it was somehow even worse when aimed at the Shimadas. Then the truth hit him, and he snorted to himself.

 

“Damn, Jesse, you don’t have a fuckin’ monopoly on traumatizin’ Hanzo. And don’t you _dare_ get protective, either.”

 

He swore that if he listened hard enough, he could hear Ana laughing at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta is as close to perfect as a human can be, which makes it even worse that he's taken up most of Genji's conscious thought. Jesse and Hanzo are both a little jealous, a little bitter, and a lot confused.

Tekhartha Zenyatta was basically perfect, and Hanzo despised him from the start. If he’d been allowed to stay in his room and focus on erasing his every presence from the Internet (a task which was proving to take several days), maybe he’d have been able to tolerate the jovial voices floating up from Genji’s room, but within minutes of Zenyatta’s arrival, Genji had dragged him downstairs to ‘socialize’. When Zenyatta greeted him with a heartfelt “I’ve heard so much about you,” Hanzo decided that he was screwed.

 

Oh, and Genji’s best friend was dragged into the room, too. That added a fresh shade of complication that Hanzo was not ready to deal with.

 

Jesse introduced himself with a winning smile and a handshake, while Hanzo bowed his head and muttered his own name in response to Zenyatta’s enthusiastic greeting. His brother’s new friend—boyfriend?—suitor?— _was_ as cute as Genji swore, which made things worse. If Hanzo knew Genji, he knew that Genji would never let this boy go without very good reason. The two were sitting side-by-side on Genji’s bed in close reach of Zenyatta’s wheelchair, watching Jesse’s animated gestures, and Hanzo didn’t even realize for a few minutes that Genji had taken off his legs and rested them in the seat of the wheelchair.

 

Since arriving from Japan, Hanzo had never seen Genji without all three prosthetics in place. Though there was no reason for Genji to let his guard down around him, it hurt to see him so comfortable, so happy, with someone new right after Hanzo had finally come back into his life.

 

Finishing whatever outlandish story he was telling, Jesse turned to Hanzo and _smirked,_ damn his audacity. “Anyway. What about you, Hanzo? Craziest thing you did in college.”

 

Hanzo scowled back at Jesse. “Besides maiming my brother.”

 

The room fell like an avalanche into silence. It’s Zenyatta who finally replied, after a few moments in which everyone avoided looking at everyone else, and the even timbre of his voice was enough to make Hanzo’s blood boil. “Genji has told me that you are… a soul in great strife.”

 

“That is no one’s business except my own,” growled Hanzo.

 

Genji’s face flickered with hurt and discomfort as he rested his flesh hand on Zenyatta’s arm and frowned at his brother. “This isn’t really the time or place for this conversation,” he placated. “I just wanted Zen to meet you two, and Hanzo was obviously busy, so why don’t we… try again later?”

 

Before Hanzo could flee, Jesse wiggled his eyebrows and dove headfirst into teasing. “That desperate for alone time, huh?”

 

Genji yelped and started to usher them both out of the room—at least, as well as he could from the bed, due to his current lack of legs. In contrast, Zenyatta winked at Jesse as the door fell shut and announced,   
“We are totally going to make out now.”

 

 _“Zenya!”_ squeaked Genji.

 

The door slammed behind Jesse as he burst into laughter. “Well, he seems like fun,” he chuckled, turning and instantly ratcheting Hanzo’s fight-or-flight reflex to the next level. “Sorry t’put you on the spot like that. I wasn’t thinkin’.”

 

“Mh. Do not apologize.” Hanzo stared down at his feet so that he wouldn’t have to face the calculating suspicion in Jesse’s chestnut eyes. “I need to finish demolishing any sign of myself on the internet.”

 

To his surprise, Jesse perked up and followed him for a few steps. “I actually… know a good bit about that, if you need any help. I’ve, uh. Got some experience.”

 

“No, thank you.” _No, please don’t look at me anymore, I can’t fucking deal with your eyes._

 

No one followed as Hanzo darted up the stairs and, once again, locked himself in his room. Before he could sit down and get back to attacking all one and a half of his existing social media profiles, he had to take a few laps around his room in an attempt to get his breathing back under control. It was bad enough to make an ass of himself in front of his brother’s new boyfriend—who was obviously a more pleasant person than he would ever be—but then there was Jesse McCree, an enigma in and of himself, who was inescapable in this damn place.

 

He was curious about Hanzo, for the most part, and that would’ve been fine. But he also made no secret of his resentment for Genji’s injuries, both physical and emotional, and that he blamed Hanzo for all of them. At the same time, he adored Genji so much that he was willing to be supportive of whatever the hell he thought Hanzo was going through. Hanzo could barely tolerate that.

 

Worst of all, however, he was fucking gorgeous.

 

Hanzo was willing to admit that he’d always liked taller men, which was probably a sign of some deep-seated insecurity or need for safety that he didn’t want to consider. Jesse was tall, broad, hairy, and a dozen other features for which Hanzo _wouldn’t_ admit his taste. His voice, while no deeper than Hanzo’s own, was enrapturing and smooth, like warm caramel, and—he couldn’t think about this. The man had done nothing to earn Hanzo’s trust and until he did, Hanzo refused to entertain any ideas about even befriending him, much less the masochistic fantasies nudging at the back of his mind.

 

From downstairs, Genji’s throaty giggles floated up to Hanzo. “Dear gods, _please_ tell me I won’t hear them when they inevitably start fucking,” he grumbled to himself.

 

He sat down his computer and took a quick inventory of his earlier work. He’d only had a Facebook and an Instagram before leaving Japan, the latter of which had started when Genji insisted that his friends needed to know what his “stuffy big brother” was up to. That account had been unused for the past four years and was no problem to erase. On the other hand, Facebook seemed to be indestructable, even though he barely posted any information about himself due to the clan’s scrutinizing eyes. He had been fairly sure that they knew he was (very) gay and just didn’t care, but he didn’t want to take chances when they were already lining up rich, powerful women for him to marry.

 

After twenty minutes of googling various iterations of “how to delete yourself from reality” and finding a substantial number of suicide help lines, he gave up. If only the Shimadas hadn’t been so traditional in raising their heirs, maybe he would’ve known these things, but he was clueless and therefore helpless, with only an inscrutably hot cowboy for assistance.

 

Today, Hanzo Shimada would compromise his morals.

 

He found Jesse at the kitchen table, as usual, bickering with Reyes and eating French toast that he had apparently made for breakfast and then continued to snack on throughout the day. After steadying himself with a deep but shaky breath, Hanzo put his laptop down on the table and slid into the chair next to Jesse. Jesse turned to stare, of course, because Hanzo could never be free of his godforsaken face. To his luck, Jesse didn’t actually say anything, just stared until he’d apparently had his fill and then went back to soaking his toast in syrup with absurd precision.

 

“Need something, Shimada?” grunted Reyes, resting his elbows on the table.

 

Hanzo had to fight to keep a frown off his face, especially since Reyes was the single person in the house who honestly seemed to accept his existence. “I—McCree had offered his help with something, and I am having more difficulty than expected.”

 

Putting his fork down, Jesse turned and reached a hand out toward the laptop. “Like I said, just call me Jesse. May I?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Reyes leaned over Jesse’s shoulder as he scanned the webpage, grumbling something under his breath that Jesse somehow seemed to understand even though it didn’t sound like any human language. _“Papi,_ don’t…”

 

“Jesse told you he knows what he’s doing, didn’t he.”

 

Hanzo tried to keep the anxiety off of his face as he nodded. “I _do_ know what I’m doing, Gabe—”

 

“No, you don’t.” Reyes pulled the laptop to his side of the table and started scrolling and then typing right away. “Who do you think was in charge of getting lil’ seventeen-year-old Jesse off the grid? The answer is Gabriel, thank you very much.”

 

“I did most of it,” whined Jesse, very much resembling the teenager of which Reyes spoke.

 

Gabriel clicked something and then grimaced. “This part’s all in Japanese. I know a bit, but I’m still gonna need your help, Hanzo.”

 

Before Hanzo could even react, Jesse grabbed his chair and Reyes’s and pulled them both closer to himself so that all three of them were perched on one side of the table, the laptop between them. The warmth radiating from Jesse’s broad form was bad enough, but even as Hanzo tried to lean away, he caught a whiff of some kind of cologne—it didn’t even fucking matter what—and his head was spinning. _Damn, he_ will _be the death of me._

 

“What d’we got, then?” Jesse asked, all too chipper for Hanzo’s taste.

 

He squinted at the screen just enough to see without making it completely obvious that he should really be wearing his glasses. “Terms of service, conditions, Sh—Shimada.” Hanzo cursed under his breath. “Okay, apparently someone in the clan has enough influence to get into online privacy settings. Great.”

 

To his surprise, Reyes soothed his panic before it could even begin. “We can still get around them, no problem. Trust me, I have yet to find a gang with more power than Zuckerberg’s all-seeing empire.”

 

Hanzo never relaxed into the uncomfortable closeness with Jesse, but as Reyes worked through page after page of fine print in alternating Japanese and English, he began to feel as if he might’ve found the right people to help him get the fuck away from the Shimadas. He knew that Reyes and Morrison had both been upper-ups in the military, and that they met Genji through that avenue, but their actual positions were secret. Jesse, on the other hand, kept nodding along to whatever Hanzo or Reyes said, but didn’t actually do anything other than sit in the way.

 

“I thought you said you knew about this,” grumbled Hanzo, after Jesse dropped the facade and started to zone out.

 

He laughed—and _oh no,_ that deep, rolling sound was magnificent. “Going incognito, yes. Technology, not so much. Gabe here always says he has no idea how I made it to seventeen with nothin’ but a six-shooter to my name.”

 

“Sheer stubbornness,” Reyes muttered.

 

Jesse upped his volume as if to barrel over his dad. _“Or_ it’s because I’m powerful and wily. Like a were-coyote.” He winked, and Hanzo, somewhere in his being, fucking lost it. Thankfully, whatever part of him was in charge of his outward presentation managed to keep _it_ from shattering entirely.

 

Reyes interrupted Hanzo’s spiraling throughts with an exclamation of victory. “There! There. Okay, now we just need to make sure we can’t find you through that route. Is that the only account you needed to take down?”

 

“Yeah,” mumbled Hanzo. “Plenty of news stories and all that, but. Not much I can do there.”

 

“Huh. I assume you don’t want to change your name or anything.”

 

He stared down at his knees, mouth twisting. “It’s not that big a deal.”

 

Jesse was watching him out of the corner of his eye as if sizing him up, which sent a tingle of anxiety down Hanzo’s spine. “If you don’t feel safe, Shimada, it’s a big deal.”

 

In retrospect, Hanzo prided himself on how slowly he turned his head, how even his voice stayed, as he stared Jesse down and answered. “I am estranged from every person I have ever known, except the brother I nearly killed,” he growled. “How am I ever supposed to feel _safe?”_

 

Jesse winced. Reyes had an intimidating face by default, so Hanzo tried his best not to look in his direction. Finally, Reyes clapped Jesse on the shoulder and gently nudged his chair backward. “If Genji is secure enough here that he was eager to invite you, then I like to think that we can make anyone feel comfortable in this house.”

 

“Except transphobes. Or racists. Or—”

 

“Shush, _hijo.”_

 

Then Hanzo met Reyes’s eyes and saw the twinkle of a laugh forming, and he did feel safer, at least for that moment. “Anyway. Thank you so much for your help,” he managed. Even in English, it still felt like something his mother had drilled into him, a script practically carved into his head. He turned to Jesse, but didn’t quite meet his eyes, before he grabbed the laptop and started to leave. “Both of you.”

 

“Anytime, sugar,” grumbled Jesse. To his immense satisfaction, Hanzo made it all the way to his room before melting.

 

He threw himself face-first onto the bed and buried his face in a pillow so that no one, hopefully, could hear him screaming to himself. Why, why, _why_ did he have to be trapped in this godforsaken house with so many unreadable adults and a gorgeous cowboy who seemed apt to turn on a dime? Hanzo had to be thankful that Genji had already helped him get a new, American phone before he got to LA, because that was one less reason to need Jesse’s “help” or lack thereof. And Gabriel—well, at least someone here seemed to genuinely like him, as far as Hanzo’s socially inept self could tell. Despite that, Hanzo was left utterly alone in the wake of his brother’s new friend, and it resembled their early teenage years a little too much for Hanzo’s liking.

 

As he went down the list of other people he knew in America, all of whom lived in this house, he could barely hold in tears. Genji was all he had left, but Genji had no reason or duty to stick around and ease Hanzo into a whole new society. All the same, Hanzo couldn’t even feel sorry for himself being stuck alone, because he was a _terrible damned human being who nearly killed his brother, fuck it, he—_

 

Deep breath. Again. Hanzo shook himself out of the depths of self-loathing, as he did several times a day, and rolled over on his bed so that he could clutch the pillow to his chest. As much as he wanted to deny it, he really did need help, or at least some distraction to keep himself away from the verge of meltdown at all times. While his usual coping mechanisms relied on the beautiful gym in Shimada Castle, he wagered that Gabriel and Morrison had some kind of workout setup in the house, judging by their unbelievable physiques. It wouldn’t hurt to ask.

 

Hanzo took a few more minutes to calm himself, then tiptoed downstairs again to ask Reyes what his options were.

 

***

 

Zenyatta stayed over for hours, much to Hanzo’s irritation. His delicate but resounding laugh filled the area all around Genji’s room, leaving Hanzo antsier every time he heard it, but when Zenyatta finally left, Hanzo almost felt worse for the disappointment in Genji’s eyes. Clearly, the two got along well. Hanzo had been fixing himself a tiny salad after the first of what would be several workouts, and he didn’t make it back to his room before Genji grabbed him by the arm.

 

“I’m sorry to leave you alone so soon after you got here,” murmured the younger Shimada, resting a hand on his brother’s back. “He’s just so amazing, Hanzo, I can’t even—dude, it’s been _years_ since we’ve been able to talk about boys together! C’mon, I need to be filled in on your love life while we were apart.”

 

Hanzo started to object, but Genji was already dragging him toward his room, and all Hanzo could do was pray that he didn’t end up sitting on any cumstains, knowing his brother. “There’s really nothing to be filled in,” he grumbled, even as Genji plopped a decorative pillow into his lap and patted his knee fondly. At least Genji still knew that he wouldn’t talk about anything remotely personal without something with which to fidget.

 

“I promise we weren’t having sex,” Genji laughed when he saw Hanzo trying to surreptitiously examine the covers on Genji’s bed. “I know you can hear pretty much anything from your room. I’d give you fair warning, trust me.”

 

Hanzo frowned. “That’s… surprisingly considerate of you,” he muttered, remembering how many times in their younger lives that he _had_ heard Genji making noises he’d never wanted to think about. “Thanks.”

 

“I’m a grownup now, Hanzo, I at least try not to be an asshole.” Genji sat down on the far end of the bed and tucked his prosthetic feet under his knees. _Still not taking them off around me, then,_ Hanzo noted. “Anyway, you may be surprised to hear this, but Zen is the first boyfriend I’ve had since coming here. There’s really something to be said for dating other disabled people—he gets it, y’know? And, yeah, he’s my boyfriend now. Already! Isn’t that awesome?”

 

“Y-yeah, it is,” replied Hanzo, watching his brother’s enthusiastic eyebrow-wiggling. He could only imagine how small Genji’s dating pool was with three limbs missing and most of his body covered in scars. Even for Hanzo, trying to find people who’d willingly date a depressed, autistic, gay man was hard enough. “And you—you seem to be happier than you were with your… past partners.”

 

Genji snorted. “You mean, I’m not just playing around and dumping them on a whim anymore? Yeah, this is different. Seriously. He’s… I can’t even describe how this feels, Hanzo, it’s new and it’s amazing and please tell me what you’ve been up to, because I need to distract myself before I go completely overboard.”

 

The air between them grew heavy with unspoken guilt: Hanzo for making it so difficult for Genji to find love again, and Genji for subsequently rubbing it in his brother’s face, whether he realized it or not. “I—well, to be honest, I—after everything happened, I spent a lot of time hanging around in your old favorite places. Arcade, ramen shop, every stupid club in Hanamura.” He worried retroactively that his words would offend Genji, but they only make him laugh again. “Lots of guys there knew what’d happened to you and wouldn’t spare me a second glance. Plenty of others were just excited to have another Shimada to fuck around with. It was a good way to distract myself, I guess.” Hanzo swallowed hard, avoiding Genji’s eyes. “I barely caught any names, even. I guess I—I didn’t deserve that much.”

 

Everything unsaid still bounces around Hanzo’s head. _I don’t deserve one-night stands, and I certainly don’t deserve emotional attachment or commitment or, god forbid, love._ Genji’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Well, and here I had thought that you would pledge celibacy in my absence.”

 

Hanzo stared at him again in fear that he really had hurt his brother, but—Genji’s eyes were sparkling with laughter. “Genji,” he responded, mock-seriously, “was there any better way for me to honor your supposed death than to get dicked by strangers in all your favorite hangouts? I thought it was what you would’ve wanted!”

 

By the time Hanzo finished talking, Genji was close to crying with mirth. His legs had flopped around to sprawl in front of him, his head resting against the wall, as he gave himself over to deep belly laughs that shook the entire bed. “O-of course,” he gasped, “of course it’s what I would’ve wanted, Hanzo! No wonder you came to your damn senses. Imitate me, and that’s what you get.”

 

“No, that happened at college, far away from you _and_ the toxic bullshit our family is always spitting.”

 

Genji’s eyes widened. “I have to say, Hanzo. I think you finally did grow up.” The mood change was fast enough to leave Hanzo reeling, but then again, Genji had a talent for leaving him in the conversational dust.

 

“Why, because I called the clan bullshit?” Hanzo shook his head and stared at his hands, still wondering when he had become so… unrestrained.

 

“I mean. Yeah. Toxic, too. Hanzo,” he repeated as he reached out with his flesh hand to touch his brother’s chin, making Hanzo look up at him. “I don’t know whether you expect me to hate you, or what. I do not. I never will. I’ve missed you so much in these past years, and I only want you to find the same happiness here that I have.”

 

Moments passed, Genji patted his shoulder, and Hanzo continued to stare in the vague direction of his brother’s left ear. “Okay,” he whispered at last.

 

“Sorry. I know these talks upset you, I shouldn’t have—you can leave, if you want, you look like you’re about to cry…”

 

Hanzo did fully intend to leave, but before he did, he pitched forward and dragged his brother into a crushing hug. “I missed you too,” he managed around the tears threatening his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“I will continue to forgive you every day, Hanzo. You deserve happiness.”

 

Right now, Hanzo felt as if all he deserved was to break down alone.

 

Instead, he bid his brother goodbye (only somewhat tearful, he thought) and headed back to the makeshift workout room in the Reyes-Morrisons’ basement. It was better equipped than he’d expected—aside from just a treadmill and a stationary bike, they had an elliptical, a full weight rack, several types of resistance bands, and enough free weights to cover all of Hanzo’s needs. All he could think was that this clearly indicated Reyes and Morrison were both much stronger than him, which was saying something. Rather than giving in to his intimidation, Hanzo just set to lifting for the second time that day in hopes that he could calm the hell down.

 

He warmed up for a few minutes, even though he’d worked out only a few hours before, and then set up a couple hundred pounds on a barbell and started a round of squats. There was something cathartic about knowing just how much raw strength he had in his legs; he knew Genji would tease him with something like _all the better to run away from your problems,_ but it was more than that. Even when he was at his most fragile, Hanzo knew that he was intimidating to the eye. Dense arms, massive thighs, obnoxiously tiny feet—he could overlook that—and a core that a gymnast would envy, sculpted but well-rounded by the density of pure strength. And _damn,_ if he actually thought himself deserving of attention, he could use his looks to great ends.

 

Like, for example, the young man who had just strode through the gym door and stopped cold, practically gaping at him. If only he weren’t an actual murderer, Hanzo would be more than happy to seduce Jesse McCree there and then.

 

His thoughts had started to get out of hand by the time Jesse interrupted them. “Mind if I lift alongside ya for a minute?”

 

 _You are royally, empirically, transcendentally fucked, Hanzo Shimada._ “Be my guest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHOOT Y'ALL I REALLY MEANT TO HAVE THIS ON A GOOD SCHEDULE!! and actually, after this update, it should be - I'm just gonna go with slightly shorter chapters but more frequent updates, because that should be easier for everyone. I took a week or so to work on a mcgenji one-shot, and then I did Genyatta Week, so I was away from this for a long time, but I also got into the habit of writing every day (finally) which has been really good for me.
> 
> So. Hopefully I'll be updating once every week or two! I still feel like this chapter is a little stilted and like. whiplash dialogue because I can't stay on topic, but I like the direction this story is going and I have lots of good ideas lined up!!
> 
> Also: pls vote in comments - should Hanzo be trans as well? I rly love writing Trans Boys Lovin Each Other but I also want the chance to write Loving Quality Cis Boyfriend to imagine that it's, yknow, possible.
> 
> thanks nick for arguing over hanzo's Cryptid Dick, motivatin me, and giving quality Ideas (and also making me more passionate in my feelings for hanzo by listing things he hates about hanzo)
> 
> oh and another note: i am trans autistic and mlm, but im ALSO a sheltered white kid with limited perspective. P L E A SE tell me if anything in my writing is veering into the territory of racism, since it runs rampant in this fandom (esp this ship) and i do not want to add to it or make anyone uncomfortable or disrespected!! i am always open to feedback! thx <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coping with jealousy is a bit easier when you're not alone. Still, it's a nasty feeling to have.

In retrospect, lifting with Hanzo was probably bad for Jesse’s health.

 

Since he first met Hanzo, some part of Jesse’s subconscious had been pondering every wonderful feature of his body, but it didn’t truly strike him until he found Hanzo squatting what looked like two hundred pounds in the basement of the house. For the length of one flawless rep, Jesse was unable to even move his mouth, stuck gaping at Hanzo’s _unbelievable_ legs as he brought the bar up to rest on the weight rack and stretched his back to one side. Despite his tiny feet and slender ankles, he had the most sculpted calves in this hemisphere, Jesse was sure; even from behind, he could tell that Hanzo’s quads were bigger than his head. Hanzo reached one arm out to stretch his bicep, flexing the full length of his tattoo, and through the cut-out sides of the tank top he was wearing, Jesse could see how the movement rippled through his dense shoulders all the way into his obliques. He could only hope that Hanzo wouldn’t give him a glimpse at his abs anytime soon, because Jesse was liable to faint on the spot. And all of that was not to mention the most perfectly toned ass he’d ever seen.

 

Long story short, Jesse had noticed his handsome face and regal demeanor, but he had yet to realize that he was absolutely, head-to-toe _shredded._

 

Hanzo turned and met his (obviously staring) gaze, studying him with confusion. “Mind if I lift alongside you for a minute?” asked Jesse’s mouth before he could close it.

 

“Be my guest.” Hanzo reached up to pull his ponytail tighter against his head, and his tank top rode up enough to reveal a surprisingly thick triangle of black hair leading down to a… _promising_ bulge in his shorts. In an instant, Jesse envisioned himself bouncing on whatever lovely dick was hiding down there, whining and panting and falling apart in Hanzo’s lap, and—

 

“Jesse?”

 

He snapped out of it, thankfully. “S-sorry, spotter, do you need a Hanzo?”

 

“What?”

 

“H… Hanzo. Do you need a spotter? You look fine, honestly, I mean—”

 

Hanzo raised an eyebrow and cut him off. “I am quite alright, thank you. If you’re here to work out, don’t let me stop you.”

 

“Okay. Alright.” Jesse mentally chastised himself for losing his damn mind as if he’d never seen an attractive man before, then approached the treadmill and whipped his shirt off over his head. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing to Hanzo for a reaction—the other man’s eyes tracked his movements and lingered on his scars, long enough that he could clearly see them through Jesse’s chest hair, but his expression didn’t change. _Could be worse,_ Jesse mused.

 

After setting the treadmill and bringing himself up to a jog, Jesse let his eyes wander back to Hanzo again. He wasn’t sure where this desire to ogle had come from; for the last week, he’d been struggling between compassion and hatred for him, and then a few seconds of watching him work out later, he couldn’t keep his eyes away. Hanzo had moved onto fucking _pushups,_ because he clearly wanted Jesse to suffer, and the back of his tank top was not wide enough to cover the way his shoulderblades pinched under the planes of muscle in his back. Jesse shook his head and stared back at the console of the treadmill, all the while thanking whatever powers might be that he couldn’t pop obvious boners in the same way that a cis man could.

 

It wasn’t long before Hanzo left, sweating and puffing in a very distracting way, and Jesse finally felt himself deflate. _How did I not notice how fucking gorgeous he is before?_ he pondered, wondering how hard Genji would elbow him if he said anything. _As if I weren’t already awkward enough around him._

 

To his misfortune, the scenario kept repeating. Several times over the next week, he ended up in the mini-gym at the same time as Hanzo, usually lifting in complete silence—though, every once in a while, he’d bring his own music just to watch Hanzo try and keep a straight face through what Jesse referred to as “motivational Dolly Parton.” (Jesse could not, in fact, sing “9 to 5” while doing sit-ups, no matter how hard he tried.) He had no idea why they always ended up working out at the same time, since neither was always first to the gym or last to leave, and he never knew what Hanzo was even up to until they met, unexpectedly, in between reps. Jesse spotted for Hanzo once, when he was bench-pressing an amount that shouldn’t be physically possible, and within minutes he was blushing so hard that he had to excuse himself to take some deep breaths in the basement bathroom.

 

It took him another week to figure it out. Right as Hanzo tromped down the stairs and threw a hand towel over the weight rack, Jesse heard the front door slam shut upstairs as Zenyatta left the house after another afternoon with Genji. And that, most of all, was what they had in common: they both loved Genji to death, and they both didn’t know what to do with themselves when he wasn’t available.

 

Jesse didn’t say anything until the next time around, when he was sipping at his water bottle while Hanzo stretched his hamstrings on the ground. “How’re you takin’ to your brother’s boyfriend, then?” he asked, trying his best to tread carefully.

 

“Hmph.” Jesse braced himself to be blown off, but Hanzo continued, his voice soft and uncertain. “He is wonderful, and it’s a pain in my ass, to be honest.”

 

A beat of silence, and then Jesse laughed loud enough to make Hanzo startle. “Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth,” he cackled, watching Hanzo’s eyes widen and then crinkle with a smile. _He’s so expressive. Jesus, his face is an open book._ “Goddamn, I really should’ve thought of this when I decided one best friend was enough.”

 

“As should I, when I decided that I’d be safer in a country where I knew one person, rather than several hundred who’d kill me if I disobeyed.” Jesse turned to stare at him in concern, but Hanzo was still smiling, which was unusual but gorgeous on his smooth, sculpted face.

 

“Hey now,” laughed Jesse, “you know, like, ten people at this point. And most of us are trained in some kinda combat, so that has to help, yeah?”

 

Hanzo snorted. “As long as I stay on your good side, certainly.” At that, suddenly, he _did_ seem tense, and Jesse frowned as Hanzo stood and wiped his face with his towel. _He really thinks I’m still out to get him, then. Damn._

 

“Y’know, if we’re both so bothered by Genji not having time for us, we may as well hang out together.”

 

The look on Hanzo’s face made Jesse regret speaking immediately. He started to turn away, trying to come up with some way to diffuse the remaining fear in Hanzo’s posture, but was cut off again by his unexpected words. “That… could be very nice, actually.”

 

Jesse had to fight to keep himself from laughing in shock. “Really?”

 

“I still can’t tell if you are genuinely invested in my well-being or just want to make sure I can’t hurt my brother, but I’m willing to take your efforts at face value.”

 

This time, he did laugh, though he cut himself short when he realized that Hanzo’s face was starting to morph back into uncertain anxiety. “I’m not laughin’ at you, sorry,” he placated, reaching a hand out in Hanzo’s direction. “I’m tryin’ really hard to act friendly, at least, and I’d hoped it’d be obvious by now.”

 

“Well. You will probably have to try harder, in my case,” murmured Hanzo as he turned to stare down at his knees. “I appreciate the sentiment, though.”

 

It took Jesse a few minutes to find something else to say, but Hanzo picked himself up and left before he got the chance. Still, he could consider the conversation a victory, since Hanzo had seemed genuinely thankful for his attempts at kindness. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anything unpleasant about watching him sprint up the stairs in his stupidly short shorts. That image might keep him up at night but, well, he’d been haunted by much worse.

 

Jesse spent another ten minutes cooling down, both in mind and body, before he dragged himself upstairs and dumped his empty water bottle in the sink. (Then, when Gabriel glared at him, he rinsed it and put it in the dishwasher, like the model son he was.) He was in the middle of fishing his preferred flavor of sparkling water out of the fridge when Genji planted himself right next to him, arms akimbo and brow furrowed.

 

“Can I help you?” Jesse muttered, snapping open the desired can and turning to face his friend.

 

Genji scowled. “Something’s up with you. Spill.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A drop of apricot soda slipped from his mouth and down into his beard, and Genji snorted at him. “Literally nothing has happened. It’s not like my life is particularly interestin’ on a day-to-day basis.”

 

“Oh, I have an idea of what it is. Don’t push your brain too hard. C’mon, bring your bubbly water and join me in my interrogation chamber.”

 

Jesse coughed in surprise. “Your—your what?”

 

“My room, where I interrogate my friends who I love,” Genji responded, as Gabriel yelled something about eating protein after a workout. Jesse followed his best friend across the house with his soda in one hand and a spoonful of peanut butter in the other, and eventually found himself pushed into Genji’s computer chair, watching as Genji locked the door and listened for any sign of human life outside. Finally, he concluded that they were safe and threw himself onto the bed with far too much vigor for someone with no legs.

 

“So,” Genji purred, “you’ve got the hots for my brother.”

 

It took a solid thirty seconds for the words to even filter through Jesse’s brain, and then he choked on his shock as Genji sat and watched him, eyes glinting triumphantly. “What the _fuck_ are you talking about, Shimada?” he managed at last, holding his chest with one broad hand. “I still don’t trust the guy as far as I can throw him! If it seems like I’m watchin’ him all the time, it’s so he can’t do anythin’ sketchy to you!”

 

“So you admit that you _are_ watching him, then?”

 

“I—well—yeah, I just told you why!” Jesse huffed and stared into the tattered carpet. “What, are you tryin’ to tell me you wanna hook me up with your brother, or—”

 

“Oh, no.” Genji sounded serious, but his face was scrunched up with laughter when Jesse looked up. “No, I’m just a casual observer. Casually observing that, for instance, you both go throw weights at each other every time Zen is over.”

 

Jesse sputtered. “Well—I—Hanzo doesn’t really know anyone else, even, you can’t just expect him to be super happy when you’ve suddenly got a wonderful boyfriend takin’ up all your time!”

 

To his surprise, Genji went stony and serious. “Are you genuinely concerned about him? I don’t want to put Hanzo in danger by neglecting to spend time with him. Zenyatta is wonderful, but not worth abandoning my brother. Or you, obviously. Are you really missing me that much?”

 

“I mean…” Jesse tried not to fidget. “I get into a routine pretty easily, so I’m not surprised that I’ve been workin’ out with Hanzo, but I… It is kinda frustrating to see someone so perfect come into your life after years of fightin’ to be a good friend to you, Genji.”

 

Genji lurched off the bed and pulled him into a hug, at which Jesse yelped and thrashed around in a foiled attempt to escape. “You are still my best friend, Jesse,” Genji reassured. “I hope that you always will be. I’m so sorry that I didn’t realize how lonely you were, I thought it was just petty jealousy, not—”

 

“It totally is petty jealousy. Don’t worry about it,” countered Jesse, his voice muffled by Genji’s shoulder.

 

“No, but it’s hurt you. I can tell.” With that, the glimmer returned to his eyes, and he pulled back only so far that he could still clutch Jesse by the shoulders. “Just as I can tell that you want to ride my brother off into the sunset like the cowboy that you are.”

 

There was no good way to respond to that, so Jesse just gawked at him, eyes practically bugging out of his head as he struggled to regain his bearings. “Genji, _seriously?”_

 

“What? I’m allowed to be invested in my brother’s sex life. Being, ah, _active_ makes him less of a stuffy jerk.”

 

Jesse bit the inside of his cheek and pried Genji’s prosthetic hand off his shoulder, since that one at least couldn’t grip him. “I just hate to see someone who’s livin’ in my house be so lonely, Genji. That’s all.”

 

“And if you like the looks of his ass, that’s just icing on the cake.”

 

“I am going to hurt you if you don’t cut that out,” grumbled Jesse, though he couldn’t keep the laugh out of his voice. To his fortune, Genji only laughed and then let him go, but his voice stopped Jesse again at the door. “Yeah?”

 

Genji held up his flesh hand to point at Jesse, which would be more intimidating if he weren’t still laughing under his breath. “I really am sorry about neglecting you and Hanzo. But just a warning—don’t play with his feelings, Jesse, or I swear—”

 

“Can’t play with ‘em if I don’t have feelings for him in the first place. Problem solved.” Jesse left before Genji could argue again.

 

As he turned the corner and nearly ran headfirst into Hanzo, he realized that he had been near-shouting a moment before, and Hanzo had almost certainly heard him. _Shit. Shit, shit, fuck, shit. This is what you get for lying to your friend._

 

Hanzo said nothing, looking straight ahead, and passed him by, leaving Jesse to ponder just how slim his chances were with his best friend’s brother, anyway.

 

***

 

Jesse had worried about hurting his newfound peace with Hanzo by yelling blatant lies at Genji within earshot,  but within the next few days, nothing changed, at least for the worse. It seemed that Hanzo wanted to take him up on his offer of friendship after all. To Jesse, this somehow translated to _he’s not interested in you, so nothing you said to Genji even mattered, idiot._

 

All the same, he fully enjoyed watching Hanzo begin to spend more and more time out of his room, sitting around the kitchen or the TV with the rest of the house, and finally letting just the slightest thread of tension out of his shoulders. He wasn’t entirely fight-or-flight, at least, and Jesse wanted to give himself some credit for all his efforts to extend a hand in friendship. A week later, Hanzo even asked Jesse for a ride to the café, determined to visit his brother at work and see just what kind of establishment was keeping the entire house afloat.

 

It was on that trip that Jesse realized a second too late that Gabriel was leaning over his shoulder to stare at his phone, and he nearly screamed when his father poked him in the side and grumbled, “I hope you’re being careful with your Grindr matches, _hijo.”_

 

Once he finished sputtering in fear and embarrassment, Jesse pulled himself together enough to reply. “Papi, I am twenty-five years old! I don’t need your advice for online dating, thank you kindly.”

 

“I know you don’t. I just worry, after the last one. Let an old man harass your crushes, won’t you?” Jesse turned to stare at him, but Gabriel raised a hand and waved him off. “I’m joking. Your love life is your business. Carry on.”

 

The fatherly pat on his back didn’t make Jesse feel any better; he knew full well that Gabriel had only been messing with him, but having his dad critique his Grindr usage in front of a startlingly hot new friend was mortifying. To his credit, Hanzo was chuckling behind his hand, but glanced up at Jesse with sympathy in his eyes when Jesse looked his way, and didn’t bring it up again. They chatted lightly on the way home, Hanzo asking questions about the café while Jesse searched for an appropriately tacky radio station.

 

He knew that Hanzo had no reason to care, but Jesse was still endlessly grateful that he didn’t bring up “the last one,” as Gabriel put it. Jesse could barely talk about his ex with Genji, and he sure as hell wasn’t ready to dump that emotional baggage on Hanzo.

 

After the breakup (or dumping, more accurately) Jesse had blathered his sob story to anyone who would listen, though he was assured time and again that the whole relationship had been traumatic enough to merit talking about. It had been three years, he had graduated, and by now, he liked to think that he could keep these things to himself, unless they became relevant in a relationship—as some of the more painful details undoubtably would. But he hadn’t dated anyone in those three years, either, so he had yet to find out.

 

Once they got back to the house, Hanzo disappeared upstairs to change into his workout gear, while Jesse flopped down on the sofa next to Fareeha and pretended to fall asleep on her shoulder. She gave him a playful nudge, but didn’t speak until Hanzo came downstairs again, in his usual tiny shorts and low-cut tanktop, and then continued to the basement.

 

“Jesse, I think I’ve finally met a man who’s even gayer than you are.”

 

Jesse spit out a laugh and sat up so that he could stare at his sister. “I don’t believe that’s even possible. How?”

 

“Dude,” laughed Fareeha, “you work out with him, like, every day. No straight man on this planet dresses like that. And I _know_ you’ve noticed, because the Jesse McCree that I know and love would never just overlook an ass like that.”

 

“Jesus Christ, you and Genji are both onto me,” he grumbled, planting his face in his hands. At this, Fareeha turned her whole body to stare at him. “What?” snapped Jesse.

 

Fareeha blinked, eyes wider than an owl’s. “Wait, are you saying you actually _like_ him? Because you having a crush is, like, not something that—”

 

“No, not like that.” Jesse rolled his eyes. “I will admit that he’s hot, okay? And he didn’t react at all when he saw my scars, so he’s not, y’know, consciously transphobic. _Jeez,_ I set the bar pretty fuckin’ low.”

 

With a shrug and a snort, his sister turned forward again. “I understand that, though. If I were in a situation like yours, I’d… well, I’d be excited about any girl who didn’t flip her shit over… all this.” She gestured at her crotch in a way that made Jesse snort. “Like, you know I’m fine with my body, but a lot of lesbians in this world are not.”

 

“Y’can say that again.”

 

They fell into silence, their joking gone sour. Jesse honestly felt pathetic for thinking it, but he had been so excited to see Hanzo accept him as a man without question, when so many people in the past had not. Namely, his awful fucking ex-boyfriend. He really didn’t want to think about that at the moment, but all of his closest friends seemed determined to mess with his hypothetical feelings, with the exception of Hanzo, who had somehow perfected the art of small talk despite being one of the most awkward people Jesse had ever met. Yakuza upbringing, he assumed; when he saw Hanzo’s fingers flapping against the palm of his hand once as they talked, he could only assume that helped just as much.

 

Fareeha finally broke his unease, her voice gone sly. “Are you sure he saw your scars? He might’ve just been staring at your ridiculous chest hair.”

 

“I—he—he lingered on that area, okay? Like, he might have a weird fixation on nipples, but I’m pretty sure it was the scars.”

 

“Maybe you’re just the bear of his wildest dreams,” suggested Fareeha.

 

As slowly as he could manage, Jesse turned to face his sister. “I am goin’ to fucking strangle you, Fareeha.”

 

“Do your worst, cowboy.”

 

Jesse groaned and shoved Fareeha, which did nothing, seeing as she was stronger than a brick wall. “Ain’t you goin’ out with one of Genji’s friends tonight?”

 

“Oh, yeah, I was gonna ask if I could borrow a sports bra from you.”

 

He frowned. “You can have ‘em. I thought you already stole one?”

 

“I did,” Fareeha tilted her head to the side, “but I need a _bigger_ one, because I’m gonna sneak in a bunch of snacks and impress her.”

 

With an obnoxious cackle, Jesse dragged himself off the sofa and headed for the stairs. “Good luck getting away with that. I’ll be prayin’ for you.”

 

“That’s not encouraging, Jesse.”

 

As he started climbing the stairs and lost sight of Fareeha, Jesse rubbed his hands over his face hard enough to make his vision swim. He was really not happy with his family bringing his ex up—or damn, just making him think of the stupid boy—twice in a day, since he tried to keep those thoughts to once a week, maximum. Usually after the mandatory weekly nightmare. Jesse shoved his door open and closed it behind himself, pressing his forehead into the wood for a minute and taking the deepest breath that he could manage. It felt as if his ribs were shaking, all the way into the core of his torso, and he had to fight back tears even as he stumbled to his bed and flopped onto the comforter.

 

Still, tears were a good sign. When The Ex had dumped him, he’d cried for nearly two days straight, then gone numb for months. Then again, he’d only just begun his transition at that point, and his emotions had been all out of whack anyway. As far as Jesse was concerned, it was just nice to have feelings somewhere within the realm of a normal human being, though it still didn’t help all that much when the slightest mention of a toxic relationship made him want to peel his skin off and cry his heart out.

 

After another few minutes, he heard Hanzo’s soft footsteps patter up the stairs and into his own room next door. While Hanzo was usually quiet, the guest room had a squeaky floor, and Jesse could hear him moving around and grumbling to himself in Japanese. This wasn’t unusual—Hanzo talked to himself a good deal even when he was out and about in the house, but much more so when alone, and always in his native language; Genji did it nearly as much, so Jesse hadn’t really noticed. But this time he sounded more agitated than usual, his voice louder and growing thin with every passing moment, and it caught Jesse’s attention in a way that it never had before. He deliberated for a moment, not wanting to anger Hanzo, not wanting to leave him alone when he was clearly upset, and finally knocked on the wall a few times, as softly as he could manage.

 

Hanzo’s footsteps stopped cold, and the mumbling immediately afterward.

 

Jesse waited, but he didn’t respond. Faintly, he heard Hanzo move to the far side of the room, and then silence returned, and guilt swarmed Jesse’s stomach as he sat and waited. _Shit, he was already upset and I probably made him feel even worse,_ he thought, grinding the heel of his hand into his eye. This was not turning out to be a particularly good day for him.

 

His phone buzzed, startling him out of his frustration.

 

**Hanzo:**

I’m sorry that I bothered you. I will try to be quieter.

 

It took most of Jesse’s energy at that moment to stifle the groan building in his throat—of course Hanzo had thought he was annoyed. He rushed to type a response, guilt clamoring its way up his ribcage.

 

**You:**

you didn’t bother me! Just trying to make sure you were ok

 

As Jesse watched, the typing bubble came up on the screen once, twice, and then disappeared. No more sound came from Hanzo’s room. He started to wonder if he’d only embarrassed his neighbor, which certainly wouldn’t help to earn his eventual trust. Jesse sighed out loud and flopped onto his back.

 

Really, _seriously_ not his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you EVERYONE so much for all your feedback and love!!! I'd like to respond to all the comments but I am, as they say, An Anxiety. I will make a point of trying more, if y'all would like!
> 
> anyway I am a Jealous Boi and thus have found EVEN MORE WAYs to project onto these boys. I make pancakes when I'm jealous. And, well, work out too. Also, Jesse's Shitty Ex is gonna be a relatively big plot point in this, because (you'll never guess) I'm projecting and I have a lot of things to get out of my head about *my* shitty ex. Like jealousy-lifting, and not being able to breathe, and other such things that will come up later.
> 
> also: WE STILL HAVE A TIE ON HANZO AND THE TRANSNESS. I'm leaning toward cis at this point just because that's what I had originally planned, but if a bunch of you desperately want him to be trans, I may change my mind!! I am a malleable and soft human and I love you all so very much for paying attention to my writing :')


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings abound, especially when your self-worth is battered at best.

Hanzo awoke around midnight to a blood-curdling scream from downstairs, threw himself out of bed, and was already armed and ready to strike by the time he realized that his life wasn’t in immediate danger. This left his heart racing and his mind foggy with panic, though no one would be able to tell by the knife resting steady in his hand and the practiced determination on his face, and he had to stand still, stifling desperate gasps for air, for at least five minutes before he could think some sense into himself and, finally, hear the muffled laughter from downstairs.

 

He cut himself off before the self-criticism could get too far. Yes, he was on edge, and he had every reason to be, so that shouldn’t be a problem. It would’ve been embarrassing if there were witnesses, he ceded to the snarly voice in his head, as he replaced the dagger under his mattress and took a few gulps of water. No one had seen him, and he could just go back to bed, no one had to know, he didn’t—he didn’t—

 

_ “Fuck,”  _ Hanzo hissed. He knew full well that nothing was wrong, could hear Jesse and Fareeha talking downstairs, but his mind wouldn’t let him rest until he knew for sure that the house was still safe. And that would mean admitting that he was so stupidly paranoid about being hunted and found and murdered in his sleep, and… well, he’d come up with an alibi on his way downstairs. Or, at least, he’d play it off as a joke about killers in the house.

 

Still shaky and growing insecure, Hanzo threw a hoodie on over his sleep shirt and padded downstairs to find Jesse standing in the middle of the living room, arms akimbo, in front of Fareeha and another young woman, who were both sitting on the sofa. All holding back laughter. All safe. He considered turning around and fleeing, but Jesse spotted him and threw a haphazard smile in his direction.

 

With that, Hanzo was already half-dead, so he may as well join the conversation and get dragged farther through the barbed multitudes of Jesse McCree’s unbelievable beauty.

 

“Sorry t’wake you up,” laughed Jesse, making an aborted gesture in Hanzo’s direction. “Fareeha scared the  _ shit  _ outta me.”

 

Fareeha rolled her eyes—and Hanzo noticed, as he turned to her, that her arm was slung around the other woman’s shoulders. “If you would quit trying to live on the sofa, that wouldn’t happen.”

 

“Cruel. Cruel, awful sister.” Still, Jesse’s eyes were crinkled with laughter. “Hanzo, this is Satya. Friend o’ your brother’s from school, who Fareeha apparently decided to bring home for the night.”

 

As soon as Hanzo met Satya’s eyes, he liked her. Well, to be fair, he was afraid of her first, since her gaze was so coolly appraising that he felt like a specimen being pulled from cryogenic freeze, but then she tilted her head and smiled, and Hanzo could tell that they would get along well. “It is nice to meet you, Satya. I hope my brother hasn’t permanently ruined your opinion of me.”

 

Satya snorted. “Genji refers to his ‘stuffy douchebag brother’ and his ‘amazing best friend brother’ in equal measure. I still can hardly believe that they’re the same person.”

 

“That… sounds about right,” muttered Hanzo as he ducked his head to hide his blush. Positive words from Genji were still something he wouldn’t get used to for a while.

 

“Oh, yeah, how’d the sneakin’ in snacks thing go?” Jesse interjected. Hanzo was glad for the change of subject, and he had to wonder if it was coincidence, or if Jesse really was that perceptive. “Pardon the assumption, Satya, but you seem like someone who wouldn’t be impressed so easily.”

 

The giggle that came out of Satya’s mouth was completely at odds with her elegant composure. “She liked my delinquency, I swear,” Fareeha answered, eyes wide and tattoo shifting along with her animated expressions. “It was badass. I told you, Jesse.” 

 

Jesse just huffed and rolled his eyes, while his sister turned to whisper something into Satya’s ear that made her giggle again, softer this time. As they excused themselves, both stifling laughter, Jesse made his way to where Hanzo was hovering at the edge of the room and tilted his head, apparently concerned. “For real, I’m sorry about wakin’ you. Are you alright?”

 

Hanzo nodded—not convincingly, but he tried. “If Genji woke me up in the middle of a date, I would react the same.”

 

The laugh that bubbled out of Jesse’s throat was irresistable, deep and warm and sweet, and half a dozen forms of ambrosia came to Hanzo’s mind to describe it. Honey, maple, agave, sugarcane. “Good thing I don’t keep my gun on me anymore, ‘cause I woulda pulled it on her. Some fears you just can’t turn off, y’know?”

 

_ He gets it. Of course he gets it.  _ Hanzo sighed, relief seeping from his bones, and closed his eyes. “Yes, I know.”

 

“That’s why Gabe won’t let me have my gun in the house. Shot at Jack after he woke me up on a bad night. So, y’know, attempted patricide notwithstanding… I’ve been there.”

 

Hanzo turns his head to gape at Jesse full-on. “Maybe you are worse than me. Hmph.”

 

“I can’t tell if that’s an insult.”

 

His mouth couldn’t keep up with his need to backpedal. “I—I meant—you—”

 

“It’s okay, Hanzo,” soothed Jesse, one hand hovering above Hanzo’s shoulder and then dropping when he thought better. “I’m just jokin’ with you. D’you think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”

 

“I… well, I hope so,” Hanzo grumbled. “Now that I know everything is alright.”

 

Jesse nodded once, and then a few times too many, and then shook his head as if to knock himself out of a trance. “Well, if you’re too wired to fall asleep, I’ll probably be the same. So come knock on my door if y’need company, okay?” They were both headed toward their rooms at this point, Hanzo just in front of Jesse so that they could fit through the narrow stairway. Internally, Hanzo exhaled his relief as soon as Jesse was out of his line of sight, though he could still feel the other man’s warm presence following him up the stairs.  _ I need to get out of this house,  _ he mused,  _ without him. _

 

In front of their doors, Jesse paused, and for a second it looked as if he were going to ask if Hanzo was okay. Again. His eyes flickered down to around Hanzo’s hands and then up again, and before Hanzo could speak, he disappeared into his room.

 

Hanzo grunted to himself. Indecisive cowboys aside, it was well past time that he went back to bed.

 

***

 

After weeks of asking around, Hanzo finally found an archery range within a reasonable distance from the house. And when he asked Jesse, his designated chauffeur, if they could go together, Jesse insisted on finding one that would let him shoot his gun, too, which extended the drive from forty-five minutes to a whole hour. Two hours in the car, alone, with Jesse, plus some indeterminate amount of time trying not to try to impress him. Hanzo was certain that he would explode before they got home.

 

It was a Saturday, warm and dry with California heat, when Hanzo finally got to unpack his bow and make the journey with an excitable Jesse next to him. In all honesty, he would’ve loved to spend the drive maintaining Storm Bow, making sure that he hadn’t totally lost his touch, but Jesse wouldn’t let him hold the bow on his lap in the front seat because it was, as he said, “dangerous” and “unacceptable” and “we ain’t white, Hanzo, we  _ will _ get arrested.” So, instead, he stared out the passenger-side window as hard as he could, as if looking away for an instant would magnetize him to Jesse’s face, and he listened as his companion rambled about gun-related legislation for the entire hour. It was amazing, as much as Hanzo hated to admit it to himself. Jesse’s voice, which was usually warm and soothing, got sharper when he was excited, in a way that made Hanzo’s spine tingle and his stomach roll. His occasional interjection about Japanese laws only egged Jesse on. It wasn’t just his voice; something about Jesse’s contagious enthusiasm made Hanzo feel at home, for once, as they parked at the range and unloaded their gear. Jesse knew what it was like to feel so safe and also entirely captivated on the right end of a weapon, and he was willing to share that with Hanzo—not something he’d expected to earn in his new attempt at life.

 

Hanzo had also realized several times by that point that he was utterly fucked when it came to Jesse, but seeing the man wield a weapon really drove the point home. His gun had a fucking  _ spur  _ on the handle. There was no way to reconcile the feelings rolling around in Hanzo’s gut, and at this point, he didn’t want to try.

 

“I haven’t had the chance to shoot with an archer in years,” Jesse remarked as they set up in the range, checking over their respective weapons with a shared, unspoken reverence. “Think you can keep up with me?”

 

Laughter made its way up Hanzo’s throat before he could stop it. “Wait until we get started to make such assumptions. Remember, this was to be my livelihood, in a way.”

 

“Well,” huffed Jesse, “same here.”

 

Hanzo selected the most intense pair of noise-cancelling headphones the range offered, since he wasn’t used to shooting in the same range as guns and he knew that the sound would overwhelm him far too quickly. He left them crooked so that one ear was exposed as they walked over to the actual range, so that he could hear Jesse rambling some more. He’d switched to… roadkill. Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to be surprised.

 

“Those—y’know, those—what’s those li’l buggers called? I should know this, damn. I know their range keeps expandin’ even though they’re dumb as rocks and jump when a car drives over ‘em, and also they’re the only animals that carry leprosy, I can’t remember their fuckin’ name. You know what I’m talkin’ about, Hanzo? The—the li’l platey guys. Like, uh… fuck, now I can’t remember what Sandslash evolves from. ‘Cause Sandslash looks like a pangolin, right, but the other one looks like—like—damn, I thought I’d remember it if I set myself up—”

 

“Sandshrew.”

 

Snapping his fingers, Jesse turned to Hanzo and beamed. “Yeah! Them! What do they look like? They live out east, I ain’t heard of ‘em here but damn if they ain’t the most roadkilled animals I ever saw, Han, they’re fuckin’ ridiculous. You’d think somethin’ with all that armor wouldn’t be so killable. Shit, what is—”

 

A gunshot went off a few stalls down, and Hanzo cringed. He could no longer hear Jesse over the fuzz in his head, though it looked like Jesse had stopped talking, at least until he adjusted his own headphones and finished loading his gun. Hanzo followed suit, only to realize that he couldn’t hear a thing once the headphones were firmly over his ears; though Jesse’s mouth was obviously still moving, he figured he was better off tuning him out than letting the gun sounds in and risking an inevitable meltdown. He made a few vague hand gestures at Jesse to indicate that he was moving on to the archery room, then found a quieter spot where he could shoot in peace, even though his mind was still twisted up with uninvited thoughts of… Jesse. He would manage.

 

Besides, it wasn’t like he could focus on anything else once he finally nocked an arrow and took aim.

 

Storm Bow’s grip was cool under his hand, almost disappointingly so, as if it had missed him over the past several weeks, but it was still achingly familiar as it vibrated with the force of the released string. His breath settled somewhere in his belly, calm and heavy, while the bow’s tension passed through his shoulders and dissipated, and then Hanzo opened his eyes—he didn’t remember closing them—to see the arrow dead-center on the target.  _ As expected. _

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone walk past him, but he couldn’t stop now that he was here. It had been so damn long, yet everything still fell into place as if the arrows were his birthright—well, they were. Or the sword was. Not that it mattered now. It didn’t matter.

 

An hour must have passed before Hanzo even started to snap out of his daze, even after walking across the range to retrieve arrows twice and pulling his hoodie off his left shoulder in frustration. He only stirred from his focus when Jesse appeared in his line of vision, obviously trying to get his attention. Warm embarrassment flooded Hanzo—how long had Jesse been in this room, talking and expecting him to listen? Was he angry? Hanzo couldn’t handle that thought, but Jesse didn’t look angry, just concerned, and… blushing. Definitely blushing.

 

Hanzo pulled his headphones down to rest around his neck and set Storm Bow down, keeping one hand on the grip to soothe himself. “I’m so sorry, Jesse, how long—how long were you trying to get my attention? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to me, I can’t hear—”

 

“Oh no, you’re alright!” Jesse scratched the back of his head, which nudged his tacky cowboy hat adorably out of place. “I apologize for disturbin’ you. Jus’ wanted to make sure you were alright. I was startin’ to think some archery spirit had possessed you.”

 

With a snort, Hanzo adjusted his hoodie and tucked the empty sleeve into his belt. “That’s possible.” When he glanced over again, Jesse’s gaze was lost somewhere around his midsection. “I—I’m not accustomed to training around guns. I don’t… react very well to the gunshots, I guess.”

 

Jesse grimaced. “Y’don’t have to apologize for that, darlin’. I figured it was the case. I just like the sound o’ my own voice now and then.”

 

_ He gets it,  _ said the unhelpful voice in Hanzo’s mind.  _ Of course he gets it, he’s fucking perfect. _

 

Another loud noise sounded behind them—not a gunshot this time, which scared Hanzo even more—and he jumped a few inches closer to Jesse on instinct. As soon as he got his headphones back in place, he looked up to see Jesse’s forehead dotted with sweat as he started shouting across the range, though Hanzo couldn’t hear a word he was saying. He turned in place, disoriented and overwhelmed, to see a tall man with a massive auburn beard thundering toward them, yelling with as much vigor as Jesse. It took a moment for Hanzo to remind himself that they were in public, the man shouldn’t hurt them, and there was no reason to reach for his bow, but if he shifted closer to his weapon, who could blame him? Jesse’s face had gone bright red, and he continued to gesture at Hanzo and scowl at the stranger until the other man finally threw his hands up and walked away.

 

Hanzo looked up at Jesse and tapped his headphones; thankfully, Jesse understood what he was asking and nodded, allowing Hanzo to rest them on his shoulders again and hear the world. Not that he particularly wanted to at the moment. “What was that about?” he asked, while Jesse ran a hand through his hair and stared off into the distance on the other side of the range.

 

“Jus’ some guy bein’ a douchebag. Are you alright? We can step outside or go home if the noise is too much.” Jesse was absolutely deflecting the question, but Hanzo didn’t push it, especially since he barely had the room in his head to form questions when so much of it was full of  _ too loud too loud too loud. _

 

“I… Yes. I’m sorry, I know you were hoping to stay longer, I just—I just—”

 

“You’re absolutely fine, darlin’.” Jesse turned to unload his revolver as Hanzo pulled his sleeve back onto his shoulder and zipped up his hoodie. “I can’t focus on anything either. And to be honest, that guy kinda scared me.” His eyes were still darting around in every direction, as if he couldn’t hold on to a thought or even an image for more than a second, until Hanzo packed up Storm Bow and, hesitant, rested a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. That seemed to anchor him a bit, even if his red face went another shade darker. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

 

As they left the range and headed for Jesse’s car, Hanzo wondered again what the hell the strange man had been yelling about that had Jesse so—apparently—embarrassed. Thinking about it for too long made Hanzo’s heart race and his mind fill with unsavory possibilities, mostly involving the clan finding him at last and murdering him on the spot. Or, worse, dragging him back to Hanamura. Not that he didn’t miss his home (and he did, so much it physically ached), but he’d rather die here keeping Genji safe than go back to being a fucking puppet.

 

The rumble of the car’s engine starting up soothed him somewhat, and once they got out of the parking lot and on the road Hanzo turned sideways in his seat to pester Jesse. “Seriously, what did that man say to make you so upset?”

 

“It—it wasn’t a big deal, Hanzo, don’t worry about it.”

 

Hanzo huffed. “It shook you, though, and I’d like to imagine the biting retort that would instantly have come to my mind.” Jesse gave him a quizzical look, then caught the glint of sarcasm in his eye and chuckled. “The more you refuse, the more curious I become.”

 

As if trying to get it over with before he chickened out, Jesse spat a jumble of words almost too fast for Hanzo to decipher. “It was somethin’ about tellyerboyfriendtoput’istitsawayandthensomecursewords.”

 

Jesse’s eyes stayed staunchly fixed on the road, while Hanzo looked down at his hands. “Ah. Yes, I—I see why that would be… embarrassing.” For one thing, they both knew full well that Hanzo should’ve had his shirt on anyway, but Jesse’s white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel only led Hanzo’s mind to other, more self-deprecating conclusions. Of course he’d be humiliated by the assumption that Hanzo was his boyfriend. Hanzo knew, objectively, that he was an attractive man, but that didn’t mean that his brother’s best friend would ever agree.

 

Taking Jesse’s continued silence as the end of the conversation, Hanzo turned toward the window and curled up on the seat so that he could rest his head on his knees. Childish, maybe, but he was overwhelmed by a sudden need for comfort, with no one to grant it but himself. Outside, the desert was slowly turning back into city, as Los Angeles rose up from suburban ground around them.

 

He was starting to see why Genji felt so at home here. It was a world apart from Hanamura, dry and busy and far too hot, but the desert was still beautiful, especially when it produced people like… it was a bad time to keep thinking of Jesse so wistfully. He could daydream later, when he wasn’t sitting right next to the man.

 

The driver’s side window slid down a few inches, letting the rushing sound of the highway into the car, and Hanzo jumped. “Sorry,” mumbled Jesse, “d’you mind if I smoke?”

 

“No.” And then, because he had no self-control, Hanzo’s mouth continued on its own. “As long as you share.”

 

Jesse’s head turned to glance at him, but he didn’t comment, only pulling out his box of cigarillos and biting down on it before lighting up. The smell was always intoxicating; it’d been months since Hanzo had been able to smoke, but in the car, the window only providing a sliver of relief, it was almost too much to bear. He’d always liked the smell of tobacco, even as a child, for which Genji made fun of him to no end.

 

And if the smell was starting to associate itself with Jesse, that was neither here nor there.

 

After a few slow, tantalizing puffs, Jesse tapped the ashes out the open window and then reached over to pass the cigarillo to Hanzo, who fumbled to grab it from the awkward angle of Jesse’s hands. Their fingers touched much more than he would’ve liked, since his face was only getting warmer by the second, even more so as he finally got his mouth on the cigarillo and inhaled. And held his breath. And definitely didn’t think about how Jesse’s mouth probably tasted a whole lot like this, right now.

 

He couldn’t help the pathetic groan that escaped with the smoke, which puffed out of his nose like he was a dragon. To his surprise, Jesse laughed deep in his throat and turned to glance at him again, more relaxed than he’d been earlier. “Been a while?”

 

_ “Yes,”  _ Hanzo hissed on another wisp of smoke. The cigarillo really didn’t taste like the fancy cigarettes that Genji used to steal from him back home, and he had to dig his nails into his palm to keep himself from thinking of all the ways that this unique flavor could factor into Jesse’s taste, his smell, his mouth. “You have my most sincere thanks.”

 

Passing the cigarillo back was agony all over again, and this time Jesse reached all the way around his arm to grab it more easily, which left their forearms fully pressed together. Despite the layers of clothing between them, Hanzo felt like Jesse’s skin could set him on fire. His fingers were inexplicably gentle, his voice husky when he murmured his thanks and then returned the cigarillo to his mouth. Hanzo made the mistake of glancing over—Jesse was rolling it between his lips, sucking in smoke, and for just a moment, Hanzo let himself think  _ he’s wondering what I taste like, too. _

 

It hurt like a blow to the sternum.

 

“I didn’t know you smoked, or I’d’ve offered sooner,” said Jesse. Always so generous. “Though it probably did you good to have a few months away.”

 

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “I was a mob boss, I never expected to live long enough for lung cancer.”

 

“Me neither.” Old anxieties shadowed Jesse’s brow, and for a moment he almost looked nostalgic, before the moment broke and he shook his head, hands shifting on the steering wheel. “My dads have been tryin’ to break me of the habit for years with no luck. Especially ‘cause… well, uh… I wore a binder for a long time, which don’t mix well with smokin’.”

 

“I can imagine.”

 

Another deep exhale, and Jesse passed the cigarillo back. He sounded—relieved, almost, and his left hand rested on the steering wheel rather than clenching it for once, while his right hand fidgeted with the center console. “Closest I ever got to quittin’ was with my ex. Fuckin’ sad, honestly, but the guy hated the smell and he used to give me all kinds of shit over it. ‘S probably the only thing my family liked about the guy.”

 

Based on the way Jesse’s shoulders were starting to tense, Hanzo figured he didn’t want to stay on the subject any longer than he already had. Besides, an unfortunate curl of jealousy was already heating in Hanzo’s belly. “Let a man have his vices, hm? That’s what Genji always tells me.”

 

“Somethin’ tells me Genji took that a bit too seriously?”

 

Hanzo laughed. “Always.”

 

“Y’all seem to be gettin’ a bit more comfy with each other. Slowly but surely.” Jesse’s voice was almost too casual, as if he were trying to avoid setting Hanzo off, but Hanzo’s face honestly did soften at the thought. They were doing better. Even if it was hard to look his brother in the eye most days, well, it was hard to look  _ anyone  _ in the eye.

 

And Genji understood that better than most, which only reminded Hanzo how much he loved his brother. “I missed him quite a lot. Especially when he was… dead.”

 

“He’s been brighter since you got here. Like, I know that sounds weird, but you’re so important to each other, y’know? And you—” Jesse cut off with a cough; whether it was embarrassment or too much smoke, Hanzo wasn’t sure. “Since I’ve really seen the two of you together, you’ve. Uh. Grown on me.”

 

Hanzo blushed so dark, he could only thank any powers that be that Jesse was staring so decidedly at the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN SO MANY MONTHS Y'ALL I'M SORRY. I'm not sure how many people really follow this anyway, since I honestly feel like it's just a place for me to express my Angsty Young Trans Adult feelings, but I have no intentions of abandoning it! I have a lot of those feelings to share!! I was working on another fic that took me two fucking months, because smut is hard, and then I went back to school and have been Studying Diligently since then. and by studying, I mean knitting and reading fic and taking way too many naps. Hopefully I'll be back to my 2 weeks-to-1 month schedule after this, since the other ideas I'm working on are all very short snippets that I can write in one night, because that's how I handle my emotions.
> 
> disclaimer: I know nothing about shooting ranges and even less about smoking. that's probably obvious.
> 
> I also had a whole conversation with a friend about how Hanzo and Jesse are the ultimate autism/ADHD solidarity friendship :') so I'm trying to work that in, too. And, of course, Hanzo and Satya being buddies is always important.
> 
> UP NEXT: will Hanzo develop basic levels of self-esteem? Will Jesse quit daydreaming and speak a feeling or two? Will the author pass Animal Behavior? STAY TUNED and also go chat with me on tumblr [@genderfluidjessemccree](genderfluidjessemccree.tumblr.com)!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change is hard to stomach, no matter how good it is, and Jesse doesn't know when he'll ever be ready.

As soon as they got home and Hanzo fled into the house, Jesse felt the need for another cigarillo, which couldn’t be a good sign. Rather, he needed a cigarillo that didn’t—hypothetically—taste like Hanzo’s scowling mouth, warm from his workout and maybe a tiny bit sweet, he thought. Shaking the idea from his head, Jesse slipped around the corner of the house to sit on the back patio, another cigarillo already in his hand and lit without thinking.

 

He only had a few minutes before one of his parents smelled the smoke and came out to chastise him, so he figured he might as well make the most of it.

 

Over the row of garages down the back alley, the sun turned the sky peach in thick stripes as it darkened. They lived in an awfully nice neighborhood, for a house full of ex-military and gangsters, but that was a side effect of having so many people crammed into one place, Jesse figured. A dog howled a few houses down, followed by another a block away. When the door did open, it wasn’t a parent: Fareeha stepped onto the patio, already making ridiculous faces at Jesse as she sat down upwind of him and leaned on his shoulder.

 

“How goes it, ‘Reeha?” he mumbled, lips barely moving around his smoke.

 

“Hey, Jess.” She headbutted him in the arm and stretched her legs out down the stairs of the patio, toward the yard. Really, with all this grass and space and such, it was a shame they didn’t have a dog. Gabe was convinced that there were just too many people in the house to have room, which Jesse thought was bullshit, and Jack, for once, agreed with him. “Where were you and Hanzo, huh?”

 

Jesse rolled his eyes at her suggestive tone. “Shootin’.”

 

“Gone for an awfully long time.” Jesse started to argue, but Fareeha just shoved him lightly and barreled on. “Don’t start shit, Jesse, it’s obvious how much you like him.”

 

He grimaced. “Okay, for real, though, we went an hour away so he could shoot his bow. Don’t go startin’ rumors.”

 

“I’m not. Two hours in the car with that hunk of eye candy? I’m surprised you’re conscious right now.”

 

“Look, I’m gay as hell, but I’m not  _ that—” _

 

“Yes, you are! I bet you drooled all over him while he was shooting, too. Good thing he’s oblivious as a rock.”

 

Trying not to glower, Jesse studied the grass under his boots rather than looking at his sister. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about. The man’s plenty smart.”

 

“If he were that smart, he’d have scooped you up by now.” He could hear her eyebrows waggling in her voice alone. “Seriously, though, he apparently thought Genji was an assassin until they’d Skyped, like, four times.”

 

Jesse snorted. “Trus’ me, sis. When you kill someone, you generally want ‘em to stay good ‘n dead.”

 

“Unless they’re your brother. I would know.”

 

“You tryin’a tell me somethin’?”

 

Fareeha burst out cackling and, somehow, hip-checked him while still sitting. “Your drawl gets awful when you’re… how to put this…  _ distraught.” _

 

“It ain’t a drawl, it’s a dignified accent, and I am not distraught!” Jesse stubbed out his cigarillo on the patio and reached over as far as his lengthy arms would let him to flick the butt into the passive-aggressive ashtray that his dads put just out of reach of his favorite smoking spot. “Jus’ a bit cranky. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

 

She leaned her head on his shoulder, forcefully enough that her braids swung and hit him in the chest, but her voice turned serious for once. “What’s wrong, then? Other than sharing a smoke and thinking about his mouth or whatever.” Again, Jesse tried to protest. “Don’t give me that shit, I saw you coming up the driveway. All dreamy-eyed and mopey.”

 

“Okay, that—that happened. Fuck you.”

 

“Yes, yes, I’m terrible. Continue?” Fareeha looked too smug to be simply prodding him, as if she’d figured out some valuable secret. It shouldn’t have made Jesse so nervous, but in this case—somehow— _ everything  _ made him practically shake in his boots. In all honesty, he was about ready to get it off his chest, especially since his sister usually had decent advice to give.

 

He paused for a few moments, watching the laughter melt from Fareeha’s face when she realized that he really was anxious, before starting to explain himself. “There’s no use pretendin’ that I don’t like him at this point. I’m—I jus’—there’s no way this is gonna turn out well, y’know?”

 

“Why do you say that?” She was frowning, Jesse could see from the corner of his eye, even though he refused to make eye contact.

 

“He’s… he’s a good person at heart, I think, but there’s no way that he both likes me  _ and  _ would be willin’ and able to put up with all of the bullshit I’ve got piled up from my last, y’know, shot at love.” Jesse hung his head down toward his knees, exhausted just from having finally admitted the truth out loud. “Even if he were just a fratricidal pain in my ass, he doesn’t deserve to have to deal with… that shit.”

 

Fareeha heaved a melodramatic sigh and jabbed him with her elbow. “He’s definitely got more than enough of ‘that shit’ for himself. And, believe it or not, people still get to love you even if you’ve got baggage, Jess.”

 

“Hmph. Don’t mean I can actually handle it if he really does, y’know, have eyes for me or whatever.”

 

The yard darkened with the sunset, turning the grass from a bronzey green to simply gray, while Fareeha mulled over her thoughts and leaned on Jesse. “If he  _ is  _ a good person, then he’ll be willing to work through it. With you. Unless he’s got some good reason why he shouldn’t.”

 

“I guess,” grumbled Jesse. He rubbed one eye with the heel of his hand and shook his head, slowly, until dizziness made him stop. “How the fuck did you seduce Satya with the snacks-in-bra trick, and I can’t even look at Hanzo sideways without losin’ my cool?”

 

Fareeha snorted. “Hanzo is about as social as, like, a sea urchin. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

 

“Hey, that’s my crush you’re talkin’ shit about!”

 

“Aww, look at you defending him. Good start.” She pushed Jesse’s hat down over his face and cackled when he jolted upright and batted the brim out of his eyes. “For real, it seems like he just wants to be accepted, you know? He needs to know that he fits in here, that he’s loved. And I think you’re doing a damn good job of that.”

 

Jesse frowned down at his boots and tried not to think about whatever Fareeha was implying. “I know what it feels like to be so  _ fuckin’  _ alone like he is, to have to find a new family, I guess. An’ he—he’s used to the clan nitpickin’ every fuckin’ move he makes, literally, I keep seeing him stop an’ look all scared every time he mutters under his breath or flaps his hands or just  _ moves _ wrong. I dunno how to tell them that he’s okay here.”

 

A thoughtful hum came from beside him. “Satya gets very happy if I join her. Like, dance with her if she starts swaying, or let her play with my hands. As long as it’s clear that you’re not making fun of him, Hanzo seems like he would appreciate that—that solidarity, right?”

 

“Good point,” Jesse muttered. Hanzo probably wouldn’t want to be interrupted while he was talking to himself or scrunching his ponytail over and over again, but Jesse could think of plenty of ways to imitate him without being too obvious. “I’ll give that a shot.”

 

“You could always try wearing less clothes. I know you work out together, but I think your dads would let you live if you walked around the house in, like, daisy dukes.”

 

He tried not to guffaw at the thought of Jack’s reaction. “Yeah, no, I think I’ll keep with my charming personality, but thanks for the suggestion.”

 

“I’m always here to help,” laughed Fareeha. “His gay little heart might just explode, so… maybe stick with your usual style. I still see him staring at your ass  _ way  _ more than I’d like to.”

 

Jesse’s eyes went wide, even while Fareeha started clambering to her feet. “Wait, seriously? No, ‘Reeha, come back, I gotta know! He looks at my butt? He  _ likes my butt?!” _

 

“Of course he does, Jess! Your butt is fantastic!”

 

“Wait, you think my butt is  _ fantastic?  _ You gotta tell me these things more often. My ego needs it!”

 

She careened into his side as laughter took her over, and for a moment Jesse genuinely worried that they would both hit the patio face-first. “Your ego doesn’t need anything,” she jabbed, opening the back door with the hand not currently steadying him. They stumbled into the kitchen, still clutching each other and cackling, and for a moment all Jesse could think about was how wonderfully lucky he was to have her in his life.

 

“Whose ego? What?” Genji’s voice came from around the corner, followed by the rhythmic  _ click _ of his feet on the wood floor, and then his aggressively green hair made itself known.

 

“I told Jesse he had a nice butt. Please send help,” whined Fareeha. Hanzo followed Genji into the kitchen seconds later, only to hear Fareeha, make uncomfortable eye contact with Jesse for a fraction of a second, and flee before Genji could drag him into the conversation; Genji’s laughter grew louder with every passing moment. Jesse tried, and mostly failed, to contain his mortification.

 

Genji waggled his eyebrows faster than any human should be able. “Why were you talking about Jesse’s ass, hm? Wouldn’t have anything to do with my beloved brother, would it?”

 

When Fareeha cackled, Jesse knew he was never going to escape the raw power of their combined sibling energy. “Of course! I’m helping him work on ways to, y’know, speed things along. Since they obviously both need it.”

 

“You two are gonna kill me before anything ever happens,” grumbled Jesse.

 

“Oh, be quiet. We know what’s good for you,” Genji cooed, fluttering his lashes as if it would detract from his evil. “I just heard Hanzo mumbling something about sharing a smoke, and he looked like he’d been slapped across the face. That’s a good look on him.”

 

“Genji—”

 

Genji stopped him with a hand in his face. “He almost killed me; I can talk shit if I want. Anyway, he’s got a job interview tomorrow, and I promised to practice being professional with him. As if he needs any help.”

 

As Genji walked away, Jesse realized that he had never been so casual about his brush with death before; maybe Hanzo’s presence was actually helping Genji’s peace of mind, rather than shattering it. Of course, Genji’s perfect boyfriend probably helped. Damn him and his suave mannerisms. “Never thought I’d see the day that you would be defending the Evil Brother from Genji,” said Fareeha.

 

“You an’ me both.”

 

They settled into silence, Fareeha scrolling through her phone while Jesse rummaged for something to eat in the freezer. After a few half-hearted jokes and several minutes of cursing the microwave, their moment of peace was interrupted when the front door opened, and moments later Ana swept into the room, kissed her daughter’s forehead, and pulled Jesse into a one-armed hug. She was singing under her breath, a tune that sounded suspiciously Disney-ish, especially considering that Ana’s general taste in films was a combination of old war movies and the worst romcoms she could get her hands on. “Have a nice date, Mom?” Fareeha asked her, almost accusatory even though Jesse knew full well that Fareeha adored her mom’s partner.

 

“Yes, I absolutely did,” Ana hummed. “Reinhardt wants to know if you will bring Satya when you go fishing this Sunday?”

 

Jesse turned around just in time to see Fareeha’s eyes widen with poorly-restrained laughter. “Yeah, no, we’re going to have to find a different, uh, bonding activity.”

 

Ana’s laughter lit up the kitchen and, unconsciously, Jesse felt the anxiety in his chest unwind a bit. Now that he thought of it, if anyone could reassure him as to his whole Hanzo situation, it would likely be Ana. She was already turning to scrutinize him, apparently aware of his distress as soon as she got a good look. “What happened,  _ habibi?  _ You look miserable.”

 

“It’s—hold on.” Jesse walked over to the kitchen doorway and peeked around the corner, ensuring that neither Shimada was too close by, before responding. “I took Hanzo to a shootin’ range today an’ it got a bit tense on the way back, and now I’ve realized that I really do have, y’know,  _ feelings  _ for him and I don’t like it.”

 

As Ana turned to contemplate him, Jesse focused on Fareeha snickering at the table behind her. “He’s a big gay disaster, in short,” she added.

 

“Yes, well, I already knew that.” Ana studied his face for another moment and then opened her arms for a real hug, one that Jesse desperately needed, and he tried not to shiver at the wave of relief he felt as she herded him back to the table and sat him down between herself and Fareeha, taking both of his hands in her own. “You are more distressed than you are letting on, I believe. Is it because of… you-know-who?”

 

Jesse frowned down at his knees. “Yeah. I—I really don’ wanna think about him right now. Or at all.”

 

“Yes, but remember that it’s not worth denying yourself a meaningful relationship with someone who clearly likes you, just because you don’t like to think about the past.” Jesse opened his mouth to interject, but Ana held up a finger—with his hand hanging limply from her grip—and carried on. “You have worked through a lot of things in your life, Jesse. I can only imagine how difficult it is to… to go back to that, you know? Now that you’re safe, and you have a family, and you are following a path to a good life. If you think of  _ recovery  _ as being something so closely related to your past, then thinking about it will hurt.”

 

For once, Jesse was almost stunned speechless. He hadn’t considered that angle before, but he did remember months ago, when Gabriel had tried to talk him into going to therapy and talking through his… attachment issues, he had refused because it felt too much like pulling himself by the bootstraps out of his Deadlock-related trauma had. “Makes sense. I guess,” he mumbled, still avoiding Ana’s falcon-sharp eyes.

 

“It does not mean that anything is wrong with you, Jess. Only that you have lived through difficult things, and survived, and you must be willing to help yourself heal.”

 

Everything out of Ana Amari’s mouth was the indisputable truth, so Jesse couldn’t find the slightest angle from which to argue, but part of him still wanted to try. He stared at his knees in dejected silence as Ana moved one of her hands to rub his shoulder, maternal as ever and yet giving him the distance he needed. For a moment, Jesse wished that he could vocalize his gratitude for… everything about Ana, really. “Why is it,” he grumbled, “that y’all can only get me talkin’ all introspective and self-care and all that when there’s a hot man involved?”

 

The Amaris’ laughter was the warmest sound Jesse knew, even at his expense, and he was happy to be sandwiched in one of their indomitable hugs for a while longer. “Whatever it takes,” Ana quipped, as Fareeha added something about  _ because you’re super fucking gay, Jess. _

 

She was right, but at least she was sympathizing. For the most part.

 

***

 

Once Ana and Fareeha released him from their interrogation, Jesse managed an hour of blessedly quiet time to himself, though he had to fight the urge for yet another smoke. Instead, he scrolled through pages of comments on his latest published article—it’d been a few months, since opportunities were few and far between for his particular brand of creative nonfiction, but the feedback was still flowing in, and if anyone had good ideas to launch his next writing project, it would be his readers. So far, all he could tell was that he needed to take a break from gender politics for his own good, since reading the comments on his last piece made his blood pressure skyrocket. Maybe Genji would have ideas.  _ Or Hanzo,  _ the devilish part of his brain supplied,  _ you could always tell Hanzo about your freelance career. _

 

He shook the thought away before he could get too far into fantasies of writing for Hanzo. While not quite as sexy as a draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls situation, he could find a way to make it work, and that alone made Jesse question his own sanity.

 

Just as he finally forced himself to close the window and think of happy, non-misogynistic topics, someone knocked on his door. Three quick, sharp raps, the kind of knock that one would learn if knocking were considered a point of etiquette. So, most likely, Hanzo.

 

Jesse wheeled across the room in his desk chair and opened the door. “Can I help you?”

 

It was Hanzo, after all. “I—I don’t mean to disturb you, I just—could you… Do you have a moment?”

 

“Of course,” Jesse replied through the gentlest grin he could manage. The anxiety on Hanzo’s face was clear—every emotion was, really—and it was all he could do to make his feelings just as plain.

 

“I have a job interview tomorrow,” breathed Hanzo, as if the words were dangerously stuck in his throat. “Genji was supposed to take me, but he—there’s an issue with the hand controls in his car, and…”

 

Pushing back from the door, Jesse clambered out of his chair so that he wasn’t looking up at Hanzo. “You need a ride? I’d be happy to take you. When is it?”

 

Hanzo continued to fidget, even as he leaned against the doorframe as if struggling to appear casual. “Noon.”

 

“No problem.” Jesse tilted his head to hide the way he inhaled, quick and sharp, at the warm relief spreading over Hanzo’s face. “Whatcha applyin’ for?”

 

The pale skin of Hanzo’s throat shifted as he swallowed, drawing Jesse along like he could read Hanzo’s every movement. Or any of Hanzo’s movements, for that matter. “There is a music shop near here, and they were very excited to hear that I have some expertise with traditional Japanese instruments.”

 

“Well, damn, I’d be excited too,” Jesse mused. He didn’t miss the way Hanzo’s mouth spread into a tiny smile, then faded again. “When do we need to leave? Eleven thirty or so? I’ll be ready.”

 

Hanzo nodded. “Thank you, Jesse.”

 

“You better be ready, too,” he added with an unnecessary wink. Hanzo was clearly caught between laughing and retreating to his room in discomfort, because Jesse seriously had no idea how to flirt like a goddamn adult.

 

“I-I will. Hopefully.” Hanzo’s door slammed behind him as he fled, and Jesse shook his head before closing his own door and shoving away from it with his feet, which sent him rolling across the room and practically careening into his bed. Once again, he could hear Hanzo’s mumbling voice through the wall; if the ebb and fade of it was any indication, Hanzo was pacing furiously. Jesse almost hated himself for wanting to jack off to his  _ wonderful  _ voice.

 

It wasn’t fair that he had to live right next to someone so gorgeous and so hard to reach, his own emotional issues notwithstanding.

 

Before he could get too far into his own head, something on Jesse’s computer chimed. It took him a solid minute to motivate himself into sitting up, then shifting into his desk chair, then rolling over to the desk, but once he could see his screen, his eyes went wide. He had— _ three  _ emails, which was not unusual in and of itself, but as soon as he opened the first, his breath caught in his throat. He didn’t recognize the name or email address, but he was only a few words into the email before he knew that it was undeniably important.

 

It was a fucking publisher. Someone wanted to publish him, not on the internet, not on a blog, but a  _ goddamn book.  _ Jesse had to think for a few moments to remember whether Gabe was actually home, because he needed to know as soon as possible, but he realized soon enough that his dads had been called in to an emergency hearing at some top-secret government place, which only brought a fresh wave of anxiety into the storm of his emotions. In hopes of a distraction, Jesse closed the email and opened the next, only to find—somehow even more surprising than the publisher—an entreaty from the staff of Cosmo.

 

He could only stare, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed, until he realized that an odd, high-pitched noise was coming out of his throat at full blast. Footsteps approached down the hallway as Jesse struggled with himself, because would he, Jesse McCree, really write for Cosmo? From the look of the email, they wanted him to do some kind of intro article on how to date trans guys, with the apparent implication that they thought he had ever or would ever date a woman. Jesse broke his squealing to laugh out loud, then went right back to it. The money, though, that would come out of that, could do things for his family that he had never imagined.

 

Fareeha burst into the room, clearly concerned, and Jesse could only gesture at his scream as he finally ran out of breath and slumped back into the chair. She scanned the email, and then the one from the publisher, her brows rising slowly up her forehead, but instead of reacting as Jesse had hoped, she only opened the third email.

 

“You need to read this, Jess. First.”

 

Her dire tone shook some sense into Jesse all at once. Turning back to the computer, he felt sick dread settle in the pit of his stomach, since it took a lot to make Fareeha’s forehead crease with worry like it was. He skimmed, then read, then reread the note, thankful for once that Gabe was so insistent on his immaculate grammar in any communication whatsoever.

 

Even as Hanzo and then Genji piled into the room behind Fareeha, disturbed by the noise, Jesse couldn’t get himself to stop reading the same sentence over and over again, as if something would change, as if there were any possibility that his dad was just fucking with him, but the screen was unaffected by his outright terror.

 

_ We have reason to believe that you have a sister, Jesse. She may be coming home with us. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good lORD y'all I'm sorry this took so fuckin long. It's not a long chapter, it's mostly dialogue, nothing really happens other than Feelings, but I swear every time I looked at the word count it was getting shorter and it felt like I was going nowhere, so I decided to just get it up so I can move on to bigger things. Can you guess who Jesse's new sister is? :3c it's pretty obvious, I... uh... I have my favorite characters tbh.
> 
> I'm so glad to hear how many people have enjoyed this fic, and I hope you all hung on for the...indeterminate amount of time that I was slogging through this chapter and also working on other things because I'm a one-shot slut, apparently. Anyway, it's time for a READER QUIZ. How do y'all feel about smut in This Here Story? I could have the nasty stuff here in this fic but clearly labeled for skipping, in separate one-shots that are linked, or not at all. If I don't put smut in the fic, I probably won't do any fade-to-black type scenes because those make me want to pull my hair out, personally. (i like my Nasties tho...) I just wanna know what kind of stuff my audience likes so I don't drive people off or disappoint anyone!!
> 
> Check out my Peapod McHanzo Week [fics!](https://archiveofourown.org/series/910182) I wrote every day for a week and actually survived!!! And come see me on [tumblr](genderfluidjessemccree.tumblr.com) and tell me I'm valid or whatever.
> 
> OHH also personal update: I realized I haven't posted a chapter since I went on T! I'm two months on, just got to school and my friends say my voice has changed noticeably. Like, I can sing my favorite blink-182 song. Living the DREAM. I feel so much fucking better and so functional, and maybe (maybe) I'll actually write...a decent amount.
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking around and lovin' me <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra is a force of nature. Jesse is also a force of nature. Hanzo is very tired and running out of social skills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder to check tags! there is a brief description of a panic attack/flashback in this chapter.

The house is almost vibrating with sound as its residents wait for Gabriel and Jack to get home. Jesse paced in restless figure-eights through the kitchen and the living room, his voice ebbing both with the distance and his agitation, while Fareeha and Genji sat at the kitchen table in silence. Behind them, Hanzo leaned against the counter, feeling like an intruder but, at the same time, like he couldn’t leave lest he distress Jesse even more. He had quickly learned that Jesse had three siblings, though he barely remembered them since they’d been so young when he left home. The memories were clearly painful, since Fareeha stopped him after twenty minutes to talk him through some deep breaths as tears welled in the corners of his eyes. Hanzo flared his nostrils so that no one would hear his sharp inhale.

 

“It’s going to be alright, Jesse,” Fareeha soothes, her forehead creased with worry. “If she was a baby, she won’t blame you for anything. She won’t hate you.”

 

Jesse shook his head. “It’s not that, it’s—Ana?” His voice rose as Ana swept down the stairs, already reaching out to embrace him. “Did you—did Papi tell you about this?”

 

“I just got a text,” she murmured into his shoulder. “She’s in the car with them.”

 

Even from the other side of the kitchen, Hanzo could see Jesse’s shoulders trembling as he heaved a massive sigh. “My parents didn’t deserve this. They did nothing wrong, they shouldn’t have had two—two kids turn into gangsters—”

 

“Jesse,” Genji interrupted.

 

“If I had stayed, she—she wouldn’t have—if I’d—”

 

Hanzo cleared his throat, despite the urge to hide from the entire situation. “You can’t change that. There’s no reason to focus on past mistakes when your sister is about to come back into your life.”

 

Jesse, Ana, and Fareeha all gawked at him, while Genji continued to scratch at the table with his fingernails and avoid eye contact altogether. To be fair, the statement couldn’t be all that convincing coming from him, but he quickly went red and stared down at his feet under their scrutiny. Genji broke the silence, reaching out toward Hanzo to grab his hand and tug him toward the table. “Look at you, learning. He’s right, Jess. You want to start off on the right foot with her, yeah?”

 

Eyes still shining with tears, Jesse nodded.

 

“Stay in the present, then. Both of you,” he added with a sharp look at Hanzo. Had he the time, Hanzo would’ve tried to pick apart what Genji meant, but the sound of a car pulling into the driveway cut the conversation short, and everyone stood at once out of pure anxiety—only for Fareeha and Genji to sit again a moment later, upon realizing how awkward it would be for Jesse’s sister to walk in and see them all standing ominously around the kitchen.

 

When the door opened and Hanzo got a brief look at Jesse’s sister, he was genuinely surprised that she was not restrained in some way. The look on her face read somewhere between “murder” and “arson,” even though she entered the house of her own will, bracketed between Gabriel and Jack. Her brilliantly purple hair was tied in a sloppy braid over her shoulder, a style which somehow blended perfectly with her notched eyebrows and the angular jacket wrapped tight around her torso. Hanzo was still busy trying to equalize the sheer quantity of  _ purple  _ attacking his eyes when Jesse shifted forward, then back again, and nearly barked,  _ “Olivia?” _

 

She tensed. For a moment, Hanzo thought she was about to flee, but she didn’t move, even as Jack and Gabriel kept walking. They stopped a few feet ahead of her, and Gabriel’s face lit up with poorly-hidden triumph as Jack’s jaw dropped and he stared back and forth between Jesse and, apparently, Olivia. “How did you know?” he finally ground out, though Gabriel didn’t seem inclined to answer.

 

“Olivia Colomar,” Jesse repeated. “You—holy  _ shit.  _ I didn’t think it would… Fuck, I am the worst goddamn brother—”

 

“Don’t start,  _ mijo,”  _ Gabriel interrupted.

 

Olivia was still staring at Jesse as if he had personally thrown her life into a wind turbine. “Who the fuck are you?” she finally hissed, crossing her arms over her chest and setting her mouth in a frown that looked to be more self-defense than anything.

 

“Gabe didn’t—Gabe didn’t tell you.” Jesse swallowed. “You were practically a toddler when I left, of course you don’t remember me. I didn’t believe Gabe, but holy  _ shit,  _ here you are, you—you—you were in Los Muertos?!”

 

She curled her lip, only to smooth her face again as soon as Gabriel looked in her direction. “Yeah. Still would be, if they hadn’t gotten their asses busted and left me alone on the wrong side of the border. You must be Jesse, then? The one who left Mamá for the Deadlocks back in New Mexico?”

 

Jesse nodded, and Hanzo could hear his throat click as he swallowed again.

 

“Huh. Well, I’m not one to judge, I guess. Though I was a bit more stylish about ditching my family, maybe.” She flipped her braid back over her shoulder as if to prove her point. “No, I don’t remember you, but I heard about you enough. By the time I left, Mamá was sure that you were dead.”

 

Before she could dig the metaphorical knife deeper into Jesse’s gut, Gabriel cut her off. “Olivia is going to stay with us for the time being, until we figure out whether México wants to try her in court. And you would prefer to be called Sombra, yes?”

 

“Yeah,” she growled, shooting another glare at Jesse.

 

“I had a feeling that she might be your sister, Jess, from what we had been able to find about your family.” Gabriel shuffles on his feet, a characteristically uncomfortable gesture for the usually put-together man. “We got a match on her fingerprints, but Jack still didn’t believe me. And she wouldn’t give us her legal name of her own volition.”

 

Sombra rolled her eyes. “His legal name isn’t  _ Jesse McCree,  _ either. Hypocrites.”

 

“It is now,” Jesse bit out.

 

For a moment, Hanzo worried that Sombra would go too far, and he almost raised his hands to cover his ears—he hadn’t even thought of it before, but he had no desire to know Jesse’s deadname. Instead, her eyebrows shot up and, for the first time since arriving, she actually smiled. The resemblence to Jesse was suddenly that much clearer. “Damn, you really did get a good deal, getting adopted by this  _ pendejo.  _ Mamá would be so proud.”

 

Jack turned his head to stare at her. “Hey—”

 

“Hush, Jack.” Gabriel gripped his shoulder to soothe him. “We can get your name changed too, Sombra, if it becomes a matter of safety. Or, well, if you want to. I know the process intimately at this point.”

 

Sombra’s lip twitched. “Whatever. When you said the house was crowded, you meant it, huh? Who are all of you?”

 

As Gabriel introduced the rest of the house, Sombra continued to act with a flawless confidence that seemed out of place for someone who had just been taken into custody and reunited with a long-lost sibling. Hanzo, despite every moment of his upbringing, was in awe. She gave him a calculating glare when he was introduced, and Hanzo just nodded at her before staring at the back of Genji’s head in an effort to ground himself. That proved to be a mistake when Sombra pursed her lips and looked back and forth between him and Genji for a long minute, probably debating whether or not to ask the obvious question, but she took pity on him and went back to harassing Jesse.

 

“How come I never heard from you? Met you? Anything?”

 

Jesse’s eyes widened, and he scowled back at her before crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt at self-defense. “It’s not like I could just go home for the weekend. Maybe Los Muertos let you do that, but the Deadlocks didn’t stand for any of that shit. No attachments, no family ties, none of that.” The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

 

“Have you ever even tried to contact our family?” she grilled him, shrugging off Gabriel’s hand on her shoulder when he tried to keep her in place. “Like, I know I can keep tabs on them because I’m a hacker and not everyone has those skills, but you still could’ve  _ tried—” _

 

“Of course I tried!” Jesse yelled. “I’ve been trying for years, and I couldn’t find anything! You all just—just disappeared, and even if I had found you, what would I say? What would I do? I can’t—you can’t just apologize for what I did, it’s not… enough.” Hearing him berate his own actions, Hanzo’s throat grew tight, and he stared down at the floor as his chest ached for Jesse. He felt the same, day in and day out, no matter how often Genji insisted that he was forgiven.

 

Once again, Gabriel tried to step in. “We’re setting you up in Fareeha’s room for now,” he redirected, even though Sombra barely seemed to hear him. “Until we can get everyone shuffled around to make room.”

 

“Yeah, cool, good to know.” Sombra continued to glare at Jesse. “I was  _ going  _ to say that you, asshole, should call Mamá right away. She thought you were dead! She’s thought you were dead for the past decade, almost, and after Mom passed—”

 

“Wait,  _ what?” _

 

The kitchen went silent.. For a long minute, Jesse and Sombra stared at each other, eyes widening at the same time as they traded wordless realizations in the air, until Sombra finally tried again. “Y-you didn’t know that Mom was dead?”

 

Jesse’s jaw moved, but he didn’t make a sound, only shook his head at her in the sort of devastated quiet that could only come from something like… this. Even Sombra seemed to be at a loss for words, her accusatory glower slowly fading to shock as she and Jesse stared each other down. Finally, Gabriel stepped between them and started to herd Sombra toward the stairs, mumbling about making up a bed for her, until the two of them were gone and Jesse’s shoulders slumped with some combination of emotion too intense to decipher.

 

Jack approached him first, struggling to comfort him with meaningless words, but Jesse only turned away and headed toward the sink. Now that he was standing next to Hanzo, gripping the edge of the counter with white-knuckled hands and shaking his head like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to reality, Hanzo could see the tears openly running down his face, dripping messily over his open mouth. Hanzo wanted to do something, say something, and he started to reach out with one hand, but when he had almost touched Jesse’s arm, the other man flinched away.

 

That was all Hanzo could take. With Jesse bent over the sink, Genji frowning up at him from the table, and the vivid image of their parents’ graves flashing in his mind’s eye, Hanzo ran for the stairs, tearing past Jesse’s room and into his own. Already, he was berating himself in his head— _ should’ve helped Jesse, should’ve comforted him, damnit— _ but he could barely form sentences past the memories smashing around in his head, and he threw himself onto his bed and curled up as tight as he could manage just to force himself to breathe. It wasn’t working. His mother on her deathbed, his father’s headstone, his—Genji—Genji bleeding out on the floor of the dojo, staring up at him with uncomprehending eyes and trying to grab at his  _ gi  _ with his one remaining hand.

 

Hanzo was aware of reality, even as he slipped further into the grasp of the flashback; his room was fuzzy and dim before his eyes, and somewhere below, he could hear what sounded like Genji shouting, not that it helped. He should have been able to focus, to pull himself out, but every time he regained a tiny moment of lucidity, another micro-memory slammed down on his head and shoved him back. It took him ten minutes to realize that he was crying, and another twenty to process that the rest of the house had gone quiet.

 

He fell asleep still sobbing.

 

***

 

Someone was pounding on the door, louder than any human should be able to manage with just one fist, and Hanzo could only be grateful that they’d cut his nightmares short.

 

It took Hanzo a good minute, grumbling and wobbling, to crawl out of bed and shuffle to the door, which he opened to find Jesse wide-eyed and red-faced on the other side. “Whassit?” he grunted, suddenly fighting back the feeling that he was missing something, that—   
  


“It’s eleven fifteen,” Jesse replied. “Genji sent me up here to wake you up. We need to leave.”

 

Hanzo’s throat went dry as he remembered his job interview, and then, of course, the tense misery of the night before. “I—I’ll be down in a minute,” he croaked at Jesse’s questioning look, already closing the door.  _ “Shit.  _ Sorry. Thank you for waking me.”

 

“‘S no problem, but are you—?”

 

“I’m fine.” Hanzo cleared his throat. “Just give me ten minutes.”

 

He took what was quite possibly the fastest shower of his life, especially considering the granola bar that ended up half-crumbled on the floor of the shower by the time he was done with it. Even after drying dressing himself in his one dress shirt that didn’t itch horribly, he felt liable to fall back asleep on his feet at any moment.

 

As he trotted downstairs in search of more breakfast, Hanzo decided to leave his hair down over his shoulders and let it dry for as long as he could. He pulled a miscellaneous yogurt out of the fridge, hoping he wasn’t stealing from anyone else, and inhaled it before running back up to gather his keys, phone, and wallet. Jesse was pulling on his boots by the door when Hanzo got there. “Ready?”

 

“Yes. Thank you. For waking me up, too.”

 

Jesse stood and opened the door for Hanzo, before turning and—staring. His eyes were impossibly wide and his face slack, and Hanzo barely noticed until he was halfway to the car and Jesse hadn’t moved. “What’s wrong?” he called over his shoulder, anxious to get on his way.

 

“N-nothing,” Jesse squeaked. “Just, uh. Never. Never seen your hair down before, that’s all.”

As much as Hanzo wanted to investigate Jesse’s weird reaction, he didn’t have time. “Hmph. I appreciate that you are chaperoning me yet again, but I would like to be on time.”

 

Jesse shook his head and followed without a word. The car shook as he flopped into the driver’s seat and shut the door, pointedly avoiding Hanzo’s eyes, though he couldn’t hide the pink rising in his cheeks.

 

Even if he had wanted to address it, Hanzo was too anxious to make conversation. At least Jesse’s awkwardness gave him something to think about other than the impending job interview, though the two topics were just as nerve-wracking, as far as he was concerned. Now that he had more time to look, Hanzo realized that Jesse’s cheeks were puffy and his eyes red, and the scowl on his face looked like it was close to becoming permanent. He looked heartbroken, in short, and Hanzo was almost stunned by the urge to reach out and grab his hand, even though he knew that Jesse was just as averse to unexpected contact as he was.

 

They pulled up outside the music shop with ten minutes to spare, and Jesse turned off the car, tugged his hat down over his eyes, and pushed his seat back all in one smooth motion, while Hanzo just stared. “Do… do you want to come in and look around? It might distract you.”

 

Jesse pursed his lips, which was all Hanzo could see of his face from under the hat. “I appreciate the sentiment, sweet pea, but I don’t really want to be out in public lookin’ like this.”

 

“Will you be alright?” Hanzo questioned, voice softer than even he expected.

 

A moment of hesitation, and then Jesse lifted the brim of his hat so that he could, finally, look Hanzo in the eye. “Of course. I’ll be waitin’ for you.”

 

“If you say so,” mumbled Hanzo.

 

The shop was small enough that the owner noticed and recognized him as soon as he stepped inside, and the interview only took a matter of minutes. Despite music being one of his more background hobbies in Japan, Hanzo was fully invested in it, and the shop’s owner seemed more than eager to expand her range and gain his insight. She was Scottish, herself, and nearly pulled out a suspiciously convenient set of bagpipes to blast Hanzo’s ears off before the other woman working the store redirected her to the actual interview. Hanzo decided, easily, that he liked them both.

 

They seemed to like him too, at least enough to offer him the job with no hesitation. Hanzo lingered for a few more minutes, watching his new employers show off their handiwork, though his enthusiasm was quickly giving way to a fresh wave of nauseating anxiety. Jesse was alone, with nothing to distract him, and not in a good state—if something were to happen to him, Hanzo would blame himself. He finally extricated himself from the shop, thanking its owner, and headed back to the car.

 

Jesse was still in one piece, at least. Crossing in front of the windshield so that Jesse would have time to notice him, Hanzo approached the passenger side door and knocked on the window, but despite his efforts, Jesse still jumped in his seat. As he climbed into the car, Hanzo struggled to hide the frown distorting his face. It was terrifying to see Jesse so out of his element that he wasn’t even aware of his surroundings, and Hanzo had no idea what to do.

 

He buckled his seatbelt and looked over, expecting Jesse to turn on the car and drive wordlessly back home, but he didn’t move. “Jesse?” Hanzo nudged, then cleared his throat to try and erase some of the anxiety from his voice.

 

“Sorry, shit, just… gimme a minute.” Jesse finally lifted the brim of his hat until Hanzo could see his eyes, as well as the silent tears running down his face. “I can’t—I can’t go back there yet. I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to—to wait around for me to get my shit together.”

 

A pigeon landed on the hood of the car, hooted at Jesse a few times, and then flew away, and when Hanzo looked back at him, Jesse’s face was crumpling with indescribable emotion. “It’s okay,” said Hanzo, hesitantly unfolding his arms and reaching one toward Jesse. “Can—may I touch you?”

 

Jesse glanced at him, startled, but nodded. As soon as Hanzo’s palm clasped his shoulder, he choked on a sob and nearly doubled over, face in his hands, arms trembling. Hanzo had no idea what to do. Instinct took over, and he rubbed the back of Jesse’s neck before moving down his arm; to his surprise, Jesse dropped his right hand from his face and let Hanzo curl their fingers together. In any other situation, he would’ve overanalyzed every bit of contact between their hands, but instead he was overwhelmed with the need to  _ make Jesse better.  _ Even though he knew that it didn’t work that way, he had to try.

 

The uncomfortable quiet stretched on. Jesse’s fingers were clenched so tightly around Hanzo’s hand that he had to focus entirely on not wincing, as acclimated to pain as he was—Jesse was  _ strong.  _ In any other circumstance, that thought alone would have made Hanzo shiver. Instead, he tried to return the grip as hard as he could while Jesse clumsily wiped the tears from his face and rested his forehead against the steering wheel.

 

“You and Genji,” he mumbled after a few more minutes of sniffling. “Your parents are dead, yeah?”

 

Hanzo stiffened. It must have been obvious, because Jesse turned to him and opened his mouth to backtrack, but Hanzo just shook his head. “They are. They were not good people, though, and I have been… better off without them.”

 

Confusion flickers on Jesse’s face, then fades back into misery. “What was it like, then, to lose ‘em even if they were hurtin’ you in the first place?”

 

“My father was the only thing standing between Genji and the rest of the clan,” Hanzo murmured. “So it was less about them dying than him, you know, ‘dying.’ And all of—that.”

 

Jesse stifled a whimper. “Even if you th-thought you lost Genji, it’s the same, right?” Hanzo had no way to answer. “You know what—what it’s like. How the fuck am I supposed to keep living?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“It’s like I’m not allowed to care,” Jesse cried. “I abandoned my fuckin’ family, I have no right to mourn my own—my own fuckin’  _ mom. _ And Sombra, li’l Oli, is back in my life but she was never old enough to know me, anyway, so she’s just…” This time, he did nothing to bite back his sobs. “She hates me. For all I know, she’s always gonna hate me. I don’t know what to fuckin’ do.”

 

Hanzo ran his thumb over Jesse’s knuckles in an attempt to soothe him, but only ended up reinforcing his own tense discomfort at holding hands with his crush at a time like this. “Genji doesn’t hate me. If he could forgive me for  _ killing  _ him, then Sombra will be able to understand on her own time why you chose the path that you did. I am sure that you had good reason.”

 

After a heavy pause, Hanzo looked up to see Jesse assessing him out of the corner of his eye, and he spoke as soon as they made eye contact. “I try an’ tell myself that,” he muttered. “I guess we’re one and the same in that respect.”

 

“You didn’t kill your sibling,” Hanzo countered. “I do not mean to invalidate you, but—”

 

“I killed people, though. I killed a lot of fuckin’ people. Gabe and Jack were pretty high up, and they ended up cartin’ me around for a reason.”

 

Hanzo pressed his lips together. “It is beside the point. Does it really matter which of us was worse in our past lives?”

 

“Mmph.” Jesse stared down at his lap again, and Hanzo watched a tear drip from his nose onto his weathered jeans. Even red-faced and crying, Jesse’s profile was high art, as far as he was concerned.

 

“You deserve to find peace with yourself. Ideally, your sister will help.”

 

The hat came off with a flourish, as always, and Jesse mussed his hair with his free hand in a way that made Hanzo’s mouth go dry. “When did you get so clever, Hanzo?”

 

He snorted. “Never. Just ask Genji.”

 

Jesse looked up at him, his mouth slowly curling up until they were both laughing, both with tears in their eyes, both still holding on to each other’s hands as if they were only anchored to reality through that small point of contact. Even though Jesse’s fingers trembled, he laced them between Hanzo’s and nudged their elbows together, his smile the most bashful look Hanzo had ever seen on that smug face. “Shall we go home?”

 

“If you’re ready,” Hanzo replied.

 

To his chagrin, Jesse finally let go of his hand so that he could drive, and Hanzo found himself staring at his palm in giddy confusion for the rest of the drive. His heart hurt for Jesse, for the both of them, but at the same time he was filled with unexpected pride at his own ability to forgive  _ himself, _ even in the smallest of ways. Jesse glanced over at him at every stoplight, his eyes thoughtful and dark, and Hanzo had to distract himself by trying to memorize street signs so that he wouldn’t go too red under that pensive scrutiny.

 

Sombra was waiting outside when they pulled up at the house, her hands behind her back and her face stony under her electric-lilac lipstick. Hanzo had to wonder, again, how she managed to be so stylish for a teenage ex-gangster who had apparently been pulled out of a life of crime by the scruff only weeks before. Jesse parked, turned off the car, and huffed a huge breath as if trying desperately to soothe himself, and Hanzo reached over to pat his forearm again, even though he knew that initiating so much physical contact with Jesse was a recipe for disaster.

 

“Thank you,” Jesse said, before they could get out of the car. His eyes were so earnest, even as his attention was clearly elsewhere, and Hanzo found that he could only nod, his throat once again too dry to speak. Then Jesse opened the door, climbed out, and faced his sister over the hood of the car.

 

Sombra shifted her weight onto one hip and popped her gum at Jesse, like the spunky protagonist of a bad teen novel. “Shall we talk,  _ hermano?” _

 

“I think we shall,” Jesse replied, and Hanzo could almost hear him dialing up the twang in his voice. It was competitive, almost, and all of a sudden Hanzo felt as if he were in the middle of some wordless conversation that he couldn’t understand. Already exhausted and anxious from the morning’s events, he longed to curl up under a blanket or five and think about literally anything other than Jesse, but it was hard to find time alone in this house. As soon as Jesse and Sombra retreated to the backyard to chat, Genji came strutting through the front door, with Zenyatta wheeling behind him and another young man at his side.

 

Hanzo loved his brother dearly, but he would rather melt into the ground than meet  _ another  _ new person before he’d even had lunch.

 

“Haaanzooo!” Genji yowled, practically bouncing for someone with no legs. “We made a new friend! Come meet—wait, did you get the job? Are you employed?! Hanzo, don’t run away from me, I can’t keep up with you! Asshole!”

 

In the end, Hanzo wasn’t sure how Zenyatta managed to trip him, but either way he was face-down in the threshold of the house, and—Genji’s new friend was  _ far  _ too attractive to be making such a fool of himself, so he dusted himself off and tried to put a smile on his face, though he was sure it looked more like a grimace. New Friend helped him up, and yes, he was absolutely the type of person that Genji would be friends with, because he was too gorgeous to even look at head-on. “I’m Lúcio,” he introduced himself, dreads bobbing behind his head as he leaned back a bit to look up at Hanzo. “You’re Genji’s brother, yeah?”

 

Hanzo nodded, not trusting his voice in the slightest. Those  _ eyes— _ Lúcio looked like he just walked out of a fucking anime, his eyes were so expressive. As Zenyatta and Lúcio turned back into the house, chatting away, Genji swung his flesh arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and pulled him in close.

 

“Don’t even think about it,” he muttered in Hanzo’s ear. “Zen and I have dibs.”

 

“I— _ what?!” _

 

Genji jabbed him in the side with a metal finger. “I saw you gawking at him. I know he’s pretty, but your cowboyfriend needs you, Hanzo.”

 

“He’s not—”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Genji—”

 

Before the argument could progress any further, Genji slapped one palm over Hanzo’s mouth and pressed a finger to his lips like the little devil that he always was, and Hanzo accepted defeat. As Genji dragged him into the kitchen and plopped him down between himself and Lúcio, Hanzo resigned himself to another unsustainable day of social interaction, though it was always easier with his brother.

 

On the other hand, it was a lot more difficult to cope with the lingering memory of Jesse’s warm, rough fingers wrapped around his, and it was a feeling that he couldn’t ignore for much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3c we're getting to PLOT BABYYYYYY!!
> 
> First of all, I wrote this chapter in less than a week. I also spent, like, a month writing various Gencio ficlets, but... hypothetically, y'all can expect an actual increase in updates, since it's easier to write once actual plot is happening. Things are gonna get good very soon, I promise.
> 
> Aside from that, I agonized over whether to kill one of Jesse's moms—it feels really extra, to do all of that to him, but on the other hand, I think it aligns well with all of the guilt and loneliness that Jesse has internalized, and, y'know, plot purposes. Bear with me. His mamá might make a cameo at some point, because Jess and Somb Deserve Love.
> 
> Also, I fucking LOVE writing Sombra. I wasn't expecting that! Personally, I prefer calling her Sombra over Olivia, because even though we know her real name, she clearly prefers to be known as Sombra. Whether it's just a security issue or a matter of being her chosen name, I don't know, but it's one of my weird fic hangups (along with "killing Genji is central to Hanzo's development and he's not the same character without it" and all that). I'm curious to hear how other people interpret that facet of her character, though, so let me know your thoughts!
> 
> I'm really proud of myself for really buckling down and working on this chapter, and I love the direction that this fic is starting to go in, and I'm SO EXCITED TO GET TO REAL PLOT (AND ALSO SMOOCHING).
> 
> Y'all are the best damn readers I've ever had and I love you all. I'll be back for more soon ;)
> 
> EDIT 19.02.18: my beloved wonderful friend Ben drew [art](http://goodsweetboy.tumblr.com/post/171042427094/hey-you-should-read-this-really-good-mchanzo-fic) of the ~~hand-holding~~ car scene!!! I died! I'm deceased! I intend to continue writing from beyond the grave especially since I am now more Motivated, but I'm dead.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The McCree-Colomar family catches up; Hanzo has no social skills; no, actually, Hanzo has _some_ social skills, where it counts.

“So,” Sombra started. “When did you go on T?”

 

Jesse gawked at her for a moment, completely thrown off by the question. It was no surprise that she was curious—she had always been curious about everything, to a fault, but he had expected more ranting and less personal investment, even if it was just a matter of resolving the difference between his current state and his childhood. “Right after Gabe and Jack adopted me. Fuckin’ doctors tried to keep me off it before the papers were signed. Parental consent and all that.”

 

_ “Cabrones.” _

 

“Yep.” He stared at his own fingres as Sombra leaned against one of the patio chairs, apparently too cool to sit in it. “Top surgery was just six months ago. Jack was convinced that I was gonna kick the bucket, binding and smoking at the same time.”

 

Sombra snorted. “He’s probably right.”

 

As chatty as she was by nature, Sombra quieted when Jesse flopped into the chair next to her and stared out toward the farthest branches of the trees. It was better than yelling at him, but Jesse still didn’t know what to do with himself as she seemingly mulled over her words. “So… how mad at me are you? Scale of one to ten.”

 

“Eh. Three.”

 

“Really?”

 

She shook her head, and her purple hair bobbed against the fuschia sky behind her. “I’ve kept an eye on the family, but I haven’t visited them. Hell, you’re the first person to call me by my legal name in years. I’m no better than you.”

 

“That’s not what you said yesterday,” he mumbled.

 

“Yeah, well, I was surrounded by strangers and confronted with a lot of shit I didn’t want to remember, so.”

  
Jesse fought the urge to chew on his sleeve, a habit he’d left behind years ago. “‘M sorry about callin’ you O—your old name. I get it. Obviously.”

 

“It’s alright,” she dismissed. “I was just shocked. I always thought hearing that name would mean I was already dead.”

 

Understandable, Jesse figured. “Are Jack and Gabe treatin’ you alright? They’re good people, I swear. The whole family is.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. I was, y’know, trying to be all tough and mysterious and all that, but I think they figured out pretty fast that I never  _ wanted  _ to be Los Muertos in the first place. Not that I had a choice.”

 

“What do you mean?” Jesse frowned.

 

“I got too big for my britches,” Sombra laughed. “Fucking with government systems for fun, and all that. Attracting attention. Besides, with only Mamá and a bunch of kids, we were running out of money. They were the first ones to offer… asylum, so to speak.”

 

It hurt, thinking of his baby sister pawning herself off to the first gang to offer, but she looked well-fed and healthy, at least. “So you’ll stay here for now?”

 

“Until México decides if they want my head. Or, well, the underage equivalent.”

 

She turned away from him, toward the sunset, where the trees trickled down from the blackened sky like rivulets of nighttime. Jesse wanted to grab her hand, but figured she’d hurt him for it. “And—and Mom?”

 

“She’d been sick for years,” Sombra muttered. “Kept it from us. Eventually she got pneumonia, and within a week she just… withered away. That was a rough winter.”

 

Jesse blinked several times in a row, but a tear escaped anyway. “Did they still remember me?”

 

“Jesse,” she sighed, as if he were being utterly ridiculous, “Mamí practically had a fucking  _ shrine  _ for you. Mom—Mom died waiting for you to come home. And they don’t blame you,  _ hermano, _ they still love you like they always have.”

 

The trees were wobbling in front of his blurry eyes now, and Jesse ground his palms into his eyes.  _ “Lo siento.” _

 

“You and me both,” she replied. “We ought to call the family. You think your military dads could get them here to visit?”

 

“I… I want to hope so, but I d-don’t know if I’d ever be ready for that.”

 

She pressed her lips together and looked down at him again, then settled on the edge of the chair, close enough that Jesse could feel her warmth as the evening cooled. She smelled like jasmine. Leave it to his little sister to stay well-perfumed, even in government custody. “Yeah. No. It’s not up to us, though. Mamá deserves better than that.”

 

“She—what?”

 

“I already told Gabriel to call her,” she continued. “So she’ll be able to reach us if she wants. Because I knew we’d both try and chicken out of it. Besides, it would probably help my, uh, legal case if the two of them talked.”

 

Jesse took the slowest, deepest breath that he could, and still felt like screaming when he was done. “Okay.”

 

“So. Anyway. What do you do with your life? How do you plan on supporting your precious baby sister?”

 

He looked up, concerned for a moment that she was serious, only to find that her eyes still sparkled with the same mischief that they had when she was a toddler. “Shouldn’t you be mining bitcoin or something?”

 

“You don’t even know what that means, do you?” she scoffed.

 

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

 

Sombra reached out as if to shove him but came up short, though the movement still seemed natural. “Is that your way of telling me you don’t have a job?”

 

“I work for my dads,” Jesse explained. “Runnin’ errands for the café, and chauffeuring half the house. And I write a lot.”

 

“What kind of writing? Romance? Horror? Feminist thinkpieces?”

 

It took most of Jesse’s willpower to keep from biting his lip. “Well, uh. I’ve had a few things published online, but not much, it’s just starting to pick up—”

 

“Oh my  _ god,  _ it is feminist thinkpieces, isn’t it?” Jesse nodded, solemn, and Sombra’s cackle lit up the backyard. “Mom would be so proud. And no one actually calls you a chauffeur, right? That’s just not in line with the whole, y’know,  _ cowboy  _ thing.” She drawled the word in the most dramatic American accent she could manage.

 

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Nah, just Genji.”

 

“And which one is that? Introductions got cut short yesterday.” She turned back toward the house, and Jesse followed her gaze through the glass doors and into the kitchen, where Ana and Fareeha were sharing a pot of tea.

 

He took a deep breath and a mental inventory of the house, which seemed to be growing new heads like a fungus. “Genji Shimada, legally dead in Japan, legally a pain in my ass in the United States. He’s got one limb. Hence, uh, the fact that no one in his home country knows he’s alive.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard of him. And his big brother who killed him, that’s the one you were mooning over, right?”

 

Indignant, Jesse turned in the chair to scowl at her head-on. “You haven’t even been here for a full day and already you’re mocking my crush?”

 

“That’s what siblings are for. Also, you can skip most of the details. I got bored and did some research earlier.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Well, then, those are the Shimadas. Genji’s got a boyfriend, Zenyatta, who might as well live here at this point. He’s perfect, hard to miss. You already know Jack and Gabriel, and then there’s the Amaris. Ana was an Egyptian military sniper, met Jack and Gabe and got real close with them, an’ then after she broke up with Fareeha’s dad, she was lookin’ for a place to stay in the States, and they’ve lived together since then. Ana’s pretty much my third parent. Or, uh, fifth.”

 

Sombra finally gave in to the apparent urge to nudge him. “They should put  _ that  _ on the old wanted posters. Jesse McCree, has five parents because he’s just that much of a handful.”

 

“You—you know what— _ fine,  _ that’s probably true, but that doesn’t mean you have to say it!”

 

“Did the rest of the Deadlocks fight over parenting you, or is that why you didn’t last? Not enough supervision?” Her purple-lipped smirk promised more snark to come, so Jesse just rolled his eyes and pretended to ignore the comment so that she wouldn’t get too riled up.

 

Just as he was concocting a sassy, if lukewarm, response, someone tapped on the glass door behind Jesse and startled him out of his focus. He turned to find an unfamiliar, if gorgeous, man gesturing wildly from inside the kitchen. Behind him, Genji and Zenyatta laughed to themselves, while Hanzo looked on from his seat at the table, clearly uncomfortable. “Who’s that?” Sombra prompted, looking the man up and down.

 

“Genji must’ve brought a new friend home. Why, you interested? He’s probably a bit old for you.”

 

She snorted louder than strictly necessary, while they both stood and started to head inside. “I guess you wouldn’t have known, since I was so little when you left, but I am an  _ enormous  _ lesbian.”

 

“Doin’ our moms proud?” Jesse teased, his chest warming at the thought. Genji’s new friend slid the glass door open for them, already smiling brightly—he was truly stunning, even with Hanzo a few feet behind him for comparison, and Jesse had to take a deep breath before offering a hand to shake.

 

Genji facilitated introductions, not that Lúcio Correia dos Santos needed much help in that department, seeing as he was about as gregarious as the average golden retriever. As Sombra introduced herself to Zenyatta, Genji grabbed Jesse by the arm and pulled him closer to the sink, lowering his voice. “Is everything okay? She seemed really stressed earlier, but it looked like you two were laughing a minute ago.”

 

“Yeah,” murmured Jesse. “Yeah, we… talked through some shit. There’s still a lot more to be done, but she seems to really care about me, y’know? We’ll get there.”

 

“Good.”

 

He caught Genji by the arm before he could turn away. “Also, she—she gave our mom’s number to Gabe. I guess she told him to call her whenever he wants.”

 

Genji’s face turned solemn, and he returned his full attention to Jesse, putting on the air of danger that he had likely worn like a second skin in his yakuza-rebel days. “Are you going to be okay if that happens?”

 

“I sure hope so,” Jesse answered. “I’m more worried about Gabe and Jack, if she were to visit. They—they wouldn’t get jealous or anything, right? Would they be alright?”

 

The hardness drained from Genji’s face, and he shook his head, almost fondly. “That’s part of adopting kids, Jess. They know that. Besides, I’m sure they’d both love to swap strategies for dealing with you.”

 

“Like you’re any better.”

 

As Genji’s bright laugh rang out across the kitchen, Hanzo looked up at them, apparently startled by the sudden noise. Jesse opened his mouth to apologize, but balked at Hanzo’s sour frown, then stood and watched in shock as the elder Shimada got up and nearly stomped away. Jesse wasn’t surprised that he was cranky, since he knew full well that Genji could get exhausting in a matter of minutes. But as far as Jesse could remember, Hanzo’s foul moods were directed at himself more than anyone else, and as awkward as he often was, he hardly ever lashed out.

 

“‘S your brother okay?” Jesse questioned, nudging Genji with one elbow.

 

“He gets like that when he’s overwhelmed. It’ll get better, don’t worry about it.”

 

Jesse grimaced. “But I don’t—”

 

“It’s not worth your time,” Genji cut in. “He’s just gonna be a douchebag for a bit, and it’s not worth getting yelled at to try and make him better.”

 

“That’s fair, I guess,” Jesse grumbled. It didn’t stop him from wanting to do something, and the wave of sheer affection that followed the feeling almost made his head spin. This crush was starting to get truly hopeless. He decided to wait until Genji moved on before following Hanzo, both to hide his motives from Genji’s nosiness and to let Hanzo cool down.

 

It was odd for Genji to shut him down like that, too, but maybe he had good reason. Jesse tried to make a mental note of it, for all the good it would do. In the meantime, he waited until Genji was thoroughly distracted by Zenyatta, who was doing complex wheelchair tricks for Sombra, before sneaking over to the staircase and heading for Hanzo’s room.

 

He inhaled as quietly as he could and then knocked, just with one knuckle, and stepped back in case Hanzo was still ready to fight at a moment’s notice. To his surprise, the door opened right away, and Hanzo grimaced up at him, tired but no longer aggressive. “Do you need something?”

 

“Sorry to bother you,” Jesse murmured, still trying to keep his voice down even though he could hear Genji’s boisterous laughter from downstairs. “I just wanted to ask, uh. I dunno. What’s up with you?”

 

Hanzo opened the door a few inches wider, and for a moment Jesse thought he might invite him in, but his hands stayed planted on either side of the doorframe. “What do you mean?”

 

Jesse bit his lip. “It’s just, y’know, it’s not like you to storm off like that. Is somethin’ wrong?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hanzo grumbled, already on the defensive.

 

Fighting back a frown, Jesse shifted his weight to one hip and crossed his arms over his chest. Just looking at Hanzo in this mood made him want to argue. “This, right here. You were bein’ perfectly nice on the drive home, and then we got inside and suddenly you’re all puffed up like a scared cat. And then—Genji was actin’ weird about it, too, and—”

 

_ “Shit.”  _ Hanzo’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at Jesse’s feet, and Jesse stopped short. “What did he say?”

  
“Just that it wasn’t worth goin’ after you. Which I ignored, clearly.”

 

Hanzo scowled, but he finally stepped back from the doorway and waved Jesse inside. “I am sorry. This is the last thing you needed today, and Genji is right, I should—I should be down there, not snapping at you. It was just…” His mouth hung open for a few seconds, as if he were struggling to force words out of his throat, before he groaned and rubbed one hand across his sparse goatee. “Genji is so fucking  _ loud  _ sometimes.”

 

“Yes, he absolutely is,” Jesse chuckled. “What do you mean, you should be down there? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with some time away from your little shit brother.”

 

“I should be, though.” Still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, Hanzo snapped a hairband against his wrist a few times before looking up in the direction of Jesse’s neck again. “I—you—your family has no reason to house me, much less to treat me like I  _ belong  _ here. I should at least try to… socialize.”

 

Even though he didn’t see the sense in the argument, Jesse tried to work through it anyway, even as Hanzo’s face started to twist under his scrutiny. “Is that what Genji tells you?”

 

“No, but he thinks it.”

 

“Bullshit,” Jesse grumbled. “You don’t need to spend all your time with him if it wears you out. It’s not like Jack an’ Gabe are keepin’ a tally or something.”

 

Hanzo runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends until his knuckles turn white. “I just—I—my whole life was built around being a leader, being with people, and my own brother is too much for me to handle. I rarely want to be alone, either, but I go downstairs to spend time with Genji and everything is too much and I have to take a nap just so that I can think again, and then I’m alone, and… I’m sorry. I should not...”

 

“No, Hanzo,” Jesse cut in. “Bein’ honest, I feel the same. All the time. And I grew up in a damn gang, y’know? If I can’t handle this whole house, then it’s no surprise that you can’t, either. You’re not doin’ yourself any good by beatin’ yourself up over it.”

 

Another grimace, but Hanzo is looking at Jesse’s chest again, rather than fixating on the floor. “I don’t—I do not know how to deal with this. I know this happens to other people, but no one has ever really said so before. So. Ah. Thank you.”

 

“Well, y’know,” Jesse mumbled, trying to maintain some semblance of coolness while he started backing toward the door, “if you need company but you don’t wanna deal with the whole house… my door’s always open. Metaphorically. If it were actually open, Fareeha would never leave. You know what I mean.”

 

Hanzo looked him in the eye for a split second, and Jesse was almost shocked at the gentle curve of his lips, almost enough to be a smile. “I may take advantage of that offer,” he replied. “Tomorrow. When I am not so tired.”

 

“Sounds good.” Jesse fought to keep from sounding too breathless. Leave it to Hanzo to sound so formal, even when he was making Jesse’s insides tremble. “I’ll try an’ keep Genji out of your hair, alright?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Jesse excused himself and fumbled his way back to his room as quickly as possible, overcome with the need to scream into a pillow. “We’re gonna hang out,” he whispered to himself. “Alone. Together. I’m going to  _ lose my fucking mind.” _

 

If he was still enough for just a second, he thought that he could hear Hanzo making similar noises on the other side of the wall.

 

***

 

Jesse spent the next day writing, for the most part, after the exhausting events of the weekend. Rather than doing actual work, he drafted letters to his Mamá, so that he’d have something to say over the phone, even though he trashed most of his attempts after a few sentences. He couldn’t apologize enough, as far as he was concerned. He was close to tears with frustration when, finally, someone knocked on his door.

 

“Come in,” he grumbled, only to cringe at his own sour voice.

 

The door creaked a bit, then swung open the rest of the way, and Hanzo peeked in. Half of Jesse’s stress melted then and there, just seeing his strong nose and the near-permanent scowl on his face. “Are you busy?” Hanzo asked, gripping the doorknob with white knuckles.

 

“Naw. I’d much rather be talkin’ to you than torturing myself with this, that’s for sure.” Jesse pushed his chair back and stood up from his desk, only to flop backward onto his bed and pat the space next to him. “Make yourself at home.”

 

Hanzo looked anxious to be sitting on Jesse’s bed, but tucked his legs under himself and nestled into the massive blanket pile all the same. When his hands started to wobble, like he was looking for something to do with them, Jesse picked up the nearest stuffed animal—a scraggly coyote with big brown eyes and a cowboy hat just like his own—and held it out to him.

 

“Thank you,” Hanzo mused, stroking the fur on the coyote’s forehead far too reverently for something clearly so well-loved. “Does it have a name?”   
  


Jesse snorted. “Chuck.”

 

“Appropriately cowboyish,” Hanzo replied, talking more to Chuck than to Jesse.

 

After realizing that he can’t keep studying Hanzo’s face in silence, Jesse looks down at his own crossed legs and fidgets with a loose thread on one of his multitudinous blankets. “You feelin’ any better today? Got some time alone?”

 

“I was going to ask you the same.”

 

Hanzo looked up at him, silent. Jesse was fairly sure that his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn’t get himself to move, now that he could see the amber glow of Hanzo’s eyes up close, the well-groomed black hairs accenting the point of his chin, and the unabashed curiosity in his gaze. He felt something touch his hand, and even though he didn’t dare to glance down, he knew that it was Hanzo—their fingers brushed against each other once, twice, and then Jesse laced their fingers together and leaned forward before he could realize what he was doing. Hanzo’s eyes tracked him the whole way, wide with disbelief, until Jesse’s half-open lips finally met his.

 

It was soft, hesitant, and lasted only a few seconds, though Jesse’s racing heart said otherwise. When he pulled back, he was surprised to find that Hanzo’s hand was gripping his own, and his body had swayed forward as if trying to follow Jesse back. Jesse had always been warm-blooded, but he was surprised to find that Hanzo felt even warmer, and that the tiny exhale shared between them made his entire body break into shivers.

 

They stared at each other for a long moment, both speechless, and then Hanzo launched himself into Jesse’s lap.

 

Their teeth clacked together, Jesse’s lip caught in the middle, and then what remained of his breath rushed from his chest when Hanzo  _ giggled  _ into his mouth. That sound blended so well with the rugosity of his voice that Jesse felt it tingling in the pit of his stomach—though maybe that was just sheer excitement, as he wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s waist and held on for dear life. Hanzo kissed like he was conducting a symphony, smooth and overwhelming and effortless, even though the tremble of his hands tangled in Jesse’s hair said otherwise. And, apparently, he didn’t need oxygen. Jesse was sure that his face had turned blue by the time Hanzo let go of it, but it wasn’t any easier to breathe with Hanzo’s features so bright and unguarded in front of him. Just in time, Jesse remembered that he actually had hands, and he lifted one of them to cradle Hanzo’s powerful jaw and stroke through his sideburns.

 

“I’m not dreaming, right?” he managed, still trying to memorize the taste of his partner’s lips.

 

Hanzo leaned in again, all enthusiasm, only to peck him once and pull away with a nibble to Jesse’s upper lip. “I’m not sure. Then again, I never have dreams that are this good.”

 

When they came together again, they were both laughing too hard to really kiss, and instead Jesse basked in the feeling of Hanzo so happy and so  _ close.  _ It felt so sudden, but at the same time, he wasn’t surprised that they had practically pounced on each other as soon as they were alone together. Then again, Hanzo had never been predictable, and yet here he was almost pinning Jesse to the headboard and making himself at home in his lap and—

 

“I haven’t lost my mind, yes?” Hanzo interrupted his thoughts. “You do—you actually like me? That’s why this is happening?”

 

Jesse let out an anxious sigh. “Of course I do,” he murmured, adjusting his hands on Hanzo’s waist so that he could cop a subtle feel of his shredded back. “I don’t go around smoochin’ guys if I don’t mean it. And I very much mean it.”

 

“Good,” Hanzo breathed. “I—you—I feel a lot of… things… about you. It’s… different. And I don’t know what to do with it.”

 

“Keep kissin’ me,” Jesse suggested, his mouth already on Hanzo’s.

 

Even though Jesse’s imagination was already racing, he was relieved to find that Hanzo’s hands stayed on his shoulders and in his hair, rather than roaming anywhere untoward. Leave it to him to be a gentleman even as he devoured Jesse’s face. When he felt the tip of Hanzo’s jagged nose mashing into his cheek, Jesse let his own mouth fall open farther and then held back a chuckle at Hanzo sucking his tongue into his mouth.

 

Moments later, Hanzo broke away, his shoulders shaking with unrestrained laughter. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, forehead pressed to Jesse’s neck. His wild hair tickled Jesse’s chin and made him shiver. “I can’t—what do you call it? French kissing. It feels ridiculous.”

 

He was flushing an adorable shade of pink, and Jesse kissed his nose, only for him to break into another round of giggles. “I never got it either,” confessed Jesse. “I jus’ thought it was what you  _ did,  _ y’know?”

 

“Exactly.” At last, Hanzo grew tired of feeling out every inch of Jesse’s hair, and his hands dropped, one to the swell of his chest and the other to his waist. Jesse bit his lip and kissed the edge of Hanzo’s jaw until he shivered, so close that Jesse could feel every tremor. One of Hanzo’s fingers caught on the hem of Jesse’s shirt, and that was enough to bring him back to reality.

 

“Hanzo,” he mumbled, savoring the name in his own rough voice. “You do, uh. Um. You know that I’m transgender, yeah?”

 

Hanzo pulled back and quirked one wild eyebrow. “You have told me that at least a dozen times.”

 

“I’m just makin’ sure!” Jesse blushed harder than before, but this time the heat in his cheeks felt harsher, and Hanzo’s ambered gaze burned into him. “In case you didn’t get the message the first… few times. I don’t wanna—I can’t—you—”

 

“I hope that I have never made you feel unsafe,” Hanzo interrupted him, his powerful arms winding around Jesse’s waist and—good lord, he felt just as comfy and strong as Jesse had always hoped. “And if I have, please let me know so that I don’t repeat those mistakes.”

 

Jesse shook his head. “You’re fine, sweetheart, I’m just—just not used to bein’ treated so nicely.”

 

Emotive as ever, Hanzo’s face nearly crumpled in front of him before he recovered and nuzzled Jesse’s beard with his own. It was itchy, if Jesse was being honest, but the warmth of Hanzo’s cheek pressed to his own was worth it. “If you are interested in a—in a relationship,” said Hanzo, “we should take things slowly, yes? For both of our sakes.”

 

“You mean, like, not tellin’ people? ‘Cause—”

 

Before Jesse could finish, his heart rate shot through the roof as the door burst open and Genji screamed bloody fucking murder from the other side. “What do you want?” Hanzo roared; though he was courteous enough to turn away from Jesse’s ears, the heat of a furious Hanzo still curled up in his lap was terrifying.

 

“FAREEHA, THEY’RE MAKING OUT! YOU’RE MISSING—oh,  _ shit.”  _ Genji cut off short as Hanzo extricated himself from Jesse’s lap and lunged for him, eyes ablaze and actually growling. Jesse was left winded, befuddled, and frankly more aroused than he expected, especially since he credited at least half of it to the show of defensive aggression on Hanzo’s part.

 

As the brothers tore off through the hallway, Hanzo hot on Genji’s heels and Genji shrieking, Fareeha took their place. “You were doing  _ what  _ now? And you didn’t  _ tell me?” _

 

“It happened five minutes ago!” Jesse yelped as Fareeha dragged him into a headlock. As was her way. “You know I would’ve told you, now quit mussin’ up my hair, asshole!”

 

She laughed as if anything he’d said was a joke, and took several knuckles to his scalp with ruthless efficiency. “I’ve got plenty of condoms if you need ‘em. I hope you’re being safe.”

 

_ “It has been. Five. Minutes.” _

 

Just as quickly as they left, the Shimadas returned, both out of breath and with Genji holding his prosthetic arm like a sword. “We will discuss this later,” Hanzo hissed at him, before turning to Fareeha. “Would you give Jesse and I a moment, please? We need to finish this conversation.”

 

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” sighed Genji, only to turn tail and run as soon as Hanzo looked back at him again. Fareeha followed, though not before winking at Jesse and saluting Hanzo in a way that, for some reason, made his ears go pink. Hanzo slammed the door behind them and turned back to Jesse, who felt hotter than an oven and ready to combust. By the look on Hanzo’s face, he wasn’t any better off.

 

“Clearly there will be no secrecy in this house,” Hanzo chuckled, his eyes warmer than Jesse would’ve expected moments after threatening his brother. “I don’t know what your expectations are. Either way, I want to assure you that I would never hide my feelings for you, unless that was what you wanted. And even then, it would be difficult.”

 

It had happened a few times before, but Jesse was always shocked when Hanzo understood, so easily, how he felt. His throat stuck when he tried to respond, and when Hanzo saw the helpless look on his face, he crossed the room again and ran a hand through Jesse’s hair as if he couldn’t resist the need to soothe him. “It’s—sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Jesse responded after a minute. “I’ve just had some, uh. Less than stellar experiences. And to hear that you’re not, y’know, ashamed of me—”

 

“How could anyone be?” Hanzo hissed against Jesse’s temple.

 

“You’d be surprised, I guess.” Jesse shook his head and leaned back so that they could make eye contact, just briefly. “I really wasn’t expectin’ this when you moved in, but you’re a wonderful person, Hanzo. You get me. I think I wanna, uhm. I wanna date you.”

 

Hanzo’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “That is good news,” he replied, against Jesse’s lips this time. “I would like to date you as well.”

 

From the hallway, Genji’s muffled voice disturbed their peace. “That’s what I like to  _ hear!  _ High five, Fareeha.” Following this, the sound of his prosthetic arm clattering to the floor.

 

Jesse didn’t think that the feeling of giggling into Hanzo’s mouth would ever get old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> they have smoochéd. I am so relieved. This chapter took a while because I was so hung up on how exactly the Smooch should happen, and how to make it Perfect, and also when I asked my friends what they wanted everyone said "Jesse and Sombra should talk!" and I was like oh dear god I wasn't actually going to WRITE that, what kind of author do you think I AM, and they said "not a lazy one," and I laughed.
> 
> shoutout to [ben](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakkin_drongo/pseuds/fakkin_drongo) for beta-ing bits of this, and also making me write at knife(emoji)-point. Obviously I haven't posted anything on ao3 in a while, cuz the end of the semester is starting to kick my ass, and there's been enough Bullshit Small College Drama to keep me occupied. Also smooching is hard. There's a lot of self-projection in this chapter... brownie points if you can guess what it is ;3c I'd also like to shoutout the person who's been going through and commenting on a ton of my older stuff. You know who you are. I appreciate you So deeply. <3
> 
> The next chapter will probably be another bit of a wait, because I'm in volume 2 of the Genyatta Zine!!!! So that's something else to look forward to. I'll let y'all know when I can post that online, too.
> 
> thank you all for reading and appreciating my hard work. I hope the Boys Smoochening brightened your day!


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